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^>^^r^  </— 


An  American  Girl 
in  Munich 


IXXXIIIXXXXXIXIXIIIHIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIISTTTTTTIIIIITTTTT 


An 

American  Girl 
in  Munich 

Impressions  of  a  Music  Student 

By 
Mabel  W.  Daniels 


Boston 

Little,  Brown,  and  Company 

1905 

inmmimMiiimiiiiii»iin»riiiini»iTHMnii!itnMiiiimim 


■TJSIC  LIB. 


Copyright,  1905, 

By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company, 

All  rights  reserved 


Published  March,  1905 


THE   UNIVERSITY    PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    U.  S.  A. 


MOSIC 

Lie?  - 


To  Muttercken 


580 


An  American  Girl  in 
Munich 


iT»TiTin«TTnm*mnTTiiiiiiiiiiiixiiiiiiixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniimiTrTx 


Munich,  September  15,  1902. 

Dear  Cecilia :  — 

TT    y*ERE  I  AIM  IN  MY   MECCA 

m — w  at  last  after  a  "  calm  sea  and  pros- 
JL  JL  perous  voyage."  Would  that  you 
were  with  me  to  share  my  pleasures,  and, 
yes,  I  am  selfish  enough  to  add,  my  troubles, 
too,  for  you  have  such  a  magical  power  of 
charming  away  the  latter  that  they  seem 
but  trifling  vexations.  Then  I  should  so 
enjoy  watching  your  delicious  blue  eyes 
open  wide  at  these  Germans  and  their  queer 
customs,  and  oh !  how  you  would  elevate 
the  tip  of  your  aristocratic  nose  at  my  box 
of  a  study,  which,  however,  I  consider  the 
height  of  cosiness  and  comfort  —  from  a 
German  standpoint. 

Lest  by  this  last  remark  I  Ve  imperilled 
my  reputation  for  patriotism,  let  me  hasten 
[5] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

to  assure  you  that  I  am  as  far  from  adopt- 
ing a  foreign  point  of  view  in  my  contem- 
plation of  Man  and  the  Universe  as  when 
we  used  to  walk  from  college  down  to  Har- 
vard Square  and  "  have  out  "  the  discussions 
kindled  by  our  four  o'clock  lecture.  It's 
only  in  the  concrete  things  of  life  that  I  've 
been  forced  to  abandon  my  Bostonian,  and 
therefore,  of  course,  unimpeachable  stand- 
ards. I  have  learned  how  unwise  a  thing  it 
would  be  for  me  to  say  to  a  German  land- 
lady, "  Show  me  an  apartment  with  running 
water,  steam  heat,  electric  lights,  and  a 
porcelain  bath-tub."  The  poor  bewildered 
creature  would  give  me  over  at  once  into 
the  hands  of  the  omnipotent  Polizei  on  the 
ground  of  insanity.  But  perhaps,  after  all, 
the  best  way  of  explaining  myself  is  to  fol- 
low the  injunction  in  your  letter  : "  Begin  at 
the  beginning  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Mihtterchen  and  I  arrived  at  Munich  late 
in  the  evening,  and  went  directly  to  a  hotel 
near  the  station,  where  we  slept  soundly 
after  our  long  trip.  Early  the  next  morning 
I  set  out  to  look  for  a  permanent  abode.  On 
[6] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CTIITTIIItlltHTTTTITttlltltlllTITIITITIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlrTTTTTn 

my  list  were  a  number  of  well-recommended 
pensions,  and  I  chose,  naturally,  the  nearest 
at  hand.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  find  as  I  had 
at  first  thought,  for  a  German  street  has  a 
queer  fashion  of  changing  its  name  every 
few  blocks,  so  I  deemed  it  wisest  to  inquire 
the  way  of  a  passer-by.  Frankly,  I  had 
rather  prided  myself  on  my  knowledge  of 
the  language,  fondly  imagining  that  I  should 
have  no  trouble  in  understanding  it  or  in 
making  myself  intelligible.  With  that  sub- 
lime assurance  born  only  of  ignorance,  I 
approached  an  honest-faced  workman,  and 
in  a  charmingly  idiomatic  sentence  inquired 
the  shortest  way  to  Barer-strasse.  He 
stared  at  me  hard  for  a  moment,  and  then 
burst  into  a  flood  of  harsh-sounding  words, 
not  one  of  which  fell  familiarly  on  my  ear. 
I  was  puzzled  for  a  moment,  but,  thinking 
I  must  have  mistaken  his  nationality,  I 
bowed  my  thanks  and  made  my  way  to  a 
policeman  on  the  corner,  who,  by  the  bye, 
wears  a  gleaming  helmet  like  those  of  the 
soldier  chorus  in  "  Faust."  His  answer  was 
fully  as  incomprehensible  as  the  other,  and 

m 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


rTTTTTTTTTYTTl 


rTT»TITTTTTTTTTTIimtHTTITIIIIITTTTTITIIITTTm«*TTtTTTTTTTT 


I  realized  suddenly,  with  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  helplessness,  that  this  strange-sound- 
ing tongue  must  be  the  Bavarian  dialect,  and 
to  understand  it  would  require  a  totally  new 
vocabulary.  My  enthusiasm  was  distinctly 
dampened,  but  I  bravely  opened  the  Red 
Book,  which  I  had  hitherto  scorned,  and  un- 
folding the  map  of  Munich  to  its  full  extent, 
I  laboriously  studied  the  tangle  of  black  and 
red  lines  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  I 
found  the  desired  street. 

To  reach  the  pension  took  but  a  short 
time,  and  I  was  relieved  to  discover  that  the 
landlady  spoke  north  German  and  a  little 
English.  She  was  a  large,  red-cheeked, 
breezy  person,  and  I  felt  very  much  like  a 
small  boat  in  tow  of  a  big  ship,  as  I  meekly 
followed  at  her  heels,  while  she  showed  me 
her  vacant  rooms,  accompanying  her  smiles, 
bows,  and  gesticulations  with  a  torrent  of 
volubility.  Finally  she  ushered  me  into  a 
stuffy  room,  over-crowded  with  furniture, 
which  she  proudly  called  the  "  salon,"  and 
pointing  out  as  piece  de  resistance  a  decrepit, 
yellow-keyed  piano,  announced  that  it  was 

[8] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

lIIIIIITITIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITITIIIIIIIITIIItllltllTITTIIlIIIITTTtTTTTTT) 

"  for  the  use  of  the  guests."  But  the  change, 
dear  Cecilia,  when  I,  like  the  stage  villain, 
disclosed  my  identity !  The  alluring  smile 
melted  in  a  trice ;  the  persuasive  tones  dis- 
appeared for  the  sharp  rasp  of  the  up-to-date 
business  woman.  I  learned  that  a  music 
student  was  regarded  as  an  incubus,  and 
shunned  accordingly.  Practice  hours  must 
be  limited  from,  perhaps,  nine-thirty  to 
twelve  and  from  four  to  seven.  The  only 
possible  room  was  up  four  flights.  Did  I 
use  the  loud  pedal  much  ?  Did  I  play  any 
"  pieces  "  or  only  "  five-finger  exercises  "  ? 

I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  questions  she 
hurled  at  me.  Suffice  it  to  say,  I  left,  down- 
cast and  disheartened,  only  to  meet  practi- 
cally the  same  experience  at  each  pension  in 
turn.  If  there  were  already  a  music  student 
in  possession,  that  was  the  signal  for  me  in- 
stantly to  withdraw.  If  there  were  none,  I 
found  the  rooms  so  undesirable,  or  practice 
hours  so  limited,  that  to  remain  was 
impossible. 

At  length  I  chanced  to  encounter,  return- 
ing from  her  mornings  work  at  the  Pin- 
[9] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

»;HfmimiIIITTIIITIITIIITITIITTIIITTrHHITHTTIHTltTTHIim»»mTITI 

akothek,  an  art  student  whom  I  had  met  on 
the  steamer,  and  she  told  me  of  a  house 
where  she  thought  there  were  no  Musi- 
kers  as  yet.  With  an  anxious  heart  I 
hurried  up  the  narrow  stairs,  and  interviewed 
the  landlady,  who  proved  to  be  a  most  genial 
creature.  An  hour  later  we  had  left  the 
hotel  and  were  ensconced  as  proud  posses- 
sors of  two  adjoining  rooms.  The  larger  we 
use  for  a  sleeping-room,  and  the  smaller  is 
dignified  by  the  name  of  "  salon."  It  is 
there  that  I  am  to  work,  and  I  have  already 
succeeded  in  making  it  a  little  more  home- 
like, by  placing  a  screen  to  mitigate  the  de- 
pressing hideousness  of  the  stove,  and  by 
setting  out  my  photographs  on  desk  and 
table.  I  have,  too,  tacked  on  the  wall  the 
Glee  Club  pictures  and  several  snapshots 
which  you  took  that  memorable  spring  day 
in  the  Yard. 

The  pension  itself  is  small.  Indeed,  the 
Frau  Baronin  —  which  is  the  title  with 
which  I  am  to  address  my  landlady  —  tells 
me  she  seldom  has  more  than  ten  guests  in 
the  house.  She  also  says  that  most  of  her 
[10] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTiT»tniTTT»T»;iiiTTTTTt?iiinTiTniTiiiriiiiiiiriiiiiiiii:i»:iiiiirxzxrn3 

pensionnaires  are  German,  for  which  we  are 
grateful.  I  cannot  understand  why  so  many 
Americans  come  over  here  expecting  to 
see  something  of  the  life  and  then  establish 
themselves  in  one  of  those  hotel-like  board- 
ing-houses where  the  majority  of  the  inmates 
speak  only  the  English  tongue. 

The  view  from  our  windows  is  charming, 
for  Maximilians-Platz  is  one  of  the  most  at- 
tractive spots  in  the  city.  As  I  look  down 
on  the  waving  tops,  and  green  lawns  dotted 
with  flowers,  I  forget  that  I  am  in  the  city 
at  all.  Leaning  out  on  the  ledge,  with 
the  warm  breath  of  the  wind  on  my  fore- 
head, the  twittering  of  birds  and  the  soft 
plash  of  the  fountain  in  my  ears,  the  temp- 
tation to  revel  in  all  sorts  of  Arcadian 
dreams  would  be  fairly  irresistible,  were  not 
this  idyllic  illusion  suddenly  put  to  flight  by 
the  prosaic  rumble  of  passing  trams,  which 
straightway  brings  me  down  to  the  com- 
monplace. 

Really,  I  didn't  introduce  that  fountain 
just  to  create  a  romantic  description,  though 
it   does   sound   rather   like   a   daily  theme. 

[11] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rrTTXTITTTllIIIIIItTTTlIlIITTTIIISIIITTirilllllllllZXIIXXIIIXIXXXIIIIIIIIim 

The  best  part  of  it  is  it's  real,  —  and  the 
loveliest  thing  in  Miinchen.  You  can  read 
about  it  any  day  in  the  Red  Book,  and  can 
discover  countless  pictures  of  it,  but,  believe 
me,  nothing  can  give  you  an  idea  of  its 
sound  as  one  stands  at  a  little  distance.  If 
I  were  to  score  it  I  should  use  the  strings 
and  a  harp  —  the  former  divided  and  sub- 
divided as  in  the  prelude  to  Lohengrin  ; 
and  then  perhaps  I  'd  add  a  clarinet  to  give 
the  effect  of  the  birds'  call  which  mingles 
exquisitely  with  the  plaintive  music  of  the 
water. 

Later. 
My  first  appearance  in  German  society 
was  made  last  evening  at  seven-thirty.  We 
were  shown  by  Gretchen,  our  stout  maid, 
into  the  dining-room,  —  a  large  room  with 
a  long  table  in  the  centre,  about  which  a 
number  of  people  were  sitting.  At  one  end 
was  the  Baron.  He  is  very  fat,  very  jovial, 
and  very  red  of  face.  Precisely  the  same 
adjectives  somewhat  intensified  might  be 
applied  to  his  wife,  who  sat  opposite.  When 
[12] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

UlIXXIIXXXXXXXIXXXXXXXXXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIIIIiriXXTIIUlTrTTTrm 

neither  of  them  was  talking,  they  were 
laughing  in  the  most  infectious  fashion 
imaginable.  Isn't  it  queer  to  picture  the 
nobility  of  Europe  as  running  boarding- 
houses  ?  I  rather  fancied  I  might  see  some 
of  its  members  riding  by  in  magnificent 
carriages,  with  high-stepping  horses  and 
clashing  chains.  I  had  pictured  them  as 
lounging  against  the  cushions  of  their 
coaches  with  an  air  of  bored  grandeur,  while 
somewhere  in  the  background  shone  a  glint 
of  ermine,  —  but  behold!  German  aristoc- 
racy bursts  upon  me  in  my  landlord  and 
landlady. 

Mutterchen  was  given  the  place  of  honor 
at  the  Baron's  right.  I  sat  next.  My  vis- 
a-vis was  a  Frenchman  whom  I  heard  them 
addressing  as  "  Herr  Doktor."  He  was  as 
typical  of  his  nation  as  the  Baron  of  his,  and 
surveyed  me  critically  from  behind  his  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles.  It  did  not  take  me 
long  to  discover  that  he  was  intensely  proud 
of  his  English,  which  was  very  bad.  On 
his  left  sat  Frau  von  Waldfel,  a  Hungarian, 
who  monopolized  the  conversation  in  a  high, 
[13] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CTTTXTIITTTTIIIITTTTIIIilTTTTIIIIITTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIIH 

rasping  voice,  and  whose  red  cheeks,  prom- 
inent nose,  and  beady  black  eyes  bespoke 
aggressiveness  of  the  most  aggressive  type. 
Then  came  Karl,  the  Baron's  son,  a  stout, 
mischievous,  frank-faced  boy  of  fourteen, 
and  on  my  right  hand  sat  a  blond-haired 
young  man  of  about  five  and  twenty,  whom 
I  should  have  acknowledged  handsome  had 
not  his  face  been  disfigured  by  several  scars. 
I  put  him  down  at  once  as  a  student,  for  I 
had  not  travelled  through  Heidelberg  on 
my  way  southward  without  learning  some- 
thing of  the  duelling  custom.  We  were 
eight   in   all. 

The  first  meal  in  a  strange  pension  is  an 
awful  ordeal.  We  both  rather  dreaded  it, 
the  more  so  as  no  one  present  spoke  Eng- 
lish, except  Frau  von  Waldfel,  and  we  were 
rather  timid  about  airing  our  knowledge  of 
German.  Then,  too,  every  one  seemed  to 
converse  so  fast  that  the  words  fairly  tum- 
bled over  one  another.  Whenever  I  heard 
a  totally  strange  phrase  I  soothed  my  pride 
by  saying,  sotto  voce,  to  Mutterchen,  "  Again 
that  demoniacal  dialect !  "  The  Baron  and 
[14] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CXXXXlXIXIXIlZZIXXIIIXXIirilIIIIIXXIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIlltliiiirTTT-.LiiitTTTTTTTn 

Baroness  were  extremely  kind,  however,  and 
did  their  utmost  to  make  us  feel  at  home, 
while  Frau  von  Waldfel  was  in  her  element. 
These  foreigners  do  so  appreciate  an  oppor- 
tunity to  practise  their  English  ! 

Between  the  continual  making  and  con- 
suming of  numberless  small  sandwiches, 
which  she  prepared  in  a  marvellously  skilful 
fashion  from  her  bread  and  butter,  she  con- 
versed in  the  following  manner,  never  paus- 
ing for  a  reply  : 

"  Have  you  been  to  Dresden  or  Hamburg 
or  Berlin  ?  I  don't  care  for  those  cities  at 
all.  They  're  frightful.  Why,  they  simply 
starve  you  !  Of  course  in  Hamburg  one 
does  find  good  meat  pie;  the  only  decent 
thing  in  Dresden  is  the  pastry.  But  give 
me  Vienna  !  That 's  the  city  of  Europe  ! 
One  can  get  most  be-au-ti-ful  things  to  eat 
there." 

Shades  of  the  Sistine  !  Fancy  travelling 
through  Europe  "  for  thy  stomach's  sake  " ! 
Possibly,  however,  this  is  no  more  unworthy 
an  object  than  that  of  an  American  girl 
whom  I  met  yesterday.  "  Like  Munich  ? 
[15  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTHIIXIllTmimTIlHIHIXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIIIIIIIlirTn 

I  should  rather  say  not.  There  isn't  one 
decent  shop  in  the  place !  " 

Just  to  think  of  all  the  articles  they  are 
writing  at  home  to  prove  that  we  are  fast 
developing  an  artistic  sense  ! 

Anything  more  inconvenient  than  the 
arrangement  of  meals  would  be  hard  to  find 
—  with  the  exception  of  breakfast.  This  is 
served  when  and  where  you  want  it  and  con- 
sists of  rolls  and  coffee.  It  seems  we  are 
especially  lucky  inasmuch  as  we  receive 
honey  also  "without  extra  charge,"  as  the 
Baroness  impressively  added.  At  eleven 
o'clock  comes  the  Zweites  Frilhstuck  which 
I  rather  imagine  I  shall  omit.  At  one 
occurs  Mittaggessen,  a  pompous  meal  re- 
quiring at  least  an  hour.  At  five  every  one 
has  afternoon  coffee  and  a  bit  of  cake.  I 
hear  there  are  any  number  of  beguiling  out- 
door cafes  where  one  can  sit  under  the 
trees  and  hear  good  music.  At  seven-thirty 
your  true  son  of  Germany  hungers  yet 
again,  and  Abendessen  (supper)  is  served. 
If,  however,  one  wishes  to  attend  any  form 
of  entertainment  he  must  eat  a  cold  supper 
[16] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iin»TiimiiiTitmiTiiiTiTiiiiiiiiTiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii:iiiii:i:iiiiiiriii-m 

early,  in  a  bare  and  deserted  dining-room, 
for  the  opera  and  concerts  generally  begin 
at  seven  o'clock.  Do  not  imagine,  my  dear, 
that  the  German  can  now  go  to  bed  satis- 
fied, for  the  Baroness  assures  me  that  he 
either  sets  out  at  once  for  a  beer-hall  and 
lingers  over  his  stein  all  the  evening,  or 
about  ten  he  has  brought  to  his  room  such 
soporific  things  as  cheese  sandwiches,  cold 
sausage,  and,  of  course,  the  inevitable  bever- 
age. It 's  simply  impossible  for  people  to 
be  hungry  here.  They  don't  have  time  to 
acquire  an  appetite. 

Good  night  to  you  now,  for  it  is  growing 
late.  I  wonder  what  it  will  all  be  like, 
everything  seems  so  strange  now,  and  I  feel 
as  though  I  were  a  year's  journey  from 
America.  Well,  I  shall  do  my  best  to 
write  you  all  that  happens.  My  plan  is  to 
keep  a  musical  journal ;  that  is,  a  record 
of  all  that  occurs  relating  to  my  studies, 
and  occasionally  you  won't  mind,  will  you, 
if  I  copy  an  item  or  two  from  that  into 
your  letters  ?  It  will  seem  so  much  more 
as  though  I  were  talking  to  you  if  I  scribble 
2  [17] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tixixixixiiixigixiiiiixiiixixixxxxzixxxixxixiiinxiiiiiimiTTTtmiiiiiiTTTi 

down  things  from  day  to  day  and  then  send 
the  whole  off  in  a  batch,  instead  of  writing 
in  the  conventional  way  one  generally  does. 
There  is  a  clock  striking  now.  It  must 
be  that  of  the  two-towered  Frauenkirche 
which  is  so  near.  So  this  time  really  good 
night  and  angenehme  Ruh\  which  means  "  a 
pleasant  rest  to  you  !  " 

September  19. 

It  was  with  a  certain  repressed  excitement 
that  I  made  my  way  toward  Ainmiiller- 
strasse,  at  half-past  eight  this  morning,  to 
pay  my  first  visit  to  Professor  Thuille.  My 
letters  of  introduction  were  clasped  tightly 
in  my  hand,  and  I  walked  so  rapidly  that  by 
the  time  I  found  myself  on  the  landing  be- 
fore his  door,  after  climbing  several  flights 
of  stairs,  —  you  know  every  one  lives  in  a 
Wohnung  (apartment)  here,  and  an  elevator 
in  a  dwelling-house  is  an  almost  unheard-of 
luxury,  —  I  was  completely  out  of  breath. 
It  still  lacked  fifteen  minutes  of  the  ap- 
pointed time,  so  I  had  ample  opportunity  to 
regain  my  composure  as  I  sat  in  the  cosy  re- 
[18] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

u^»»»iiiiiriimnini»uiiiiii;mimiimmiiMH!TMininMT,.,T1 

ception    room   into   which   the    maid    had 
ushered    me.     Behind  the   closed   doors  at 
the  further  end  of  the  apartment  I  could 
hear  a  pupil  playing  a   Beethoven   sonata, 
and  a  man's  voice  occasionally  interrupting. 
I  adjusted  my  hat  for  the  twentieth  time, 
smoothed  my  hair  back  over  my  ears,  and 
endeavored  to  appear  outwardly  as  if  I  were 
not  at  all  in  a  flutter  of  expectation.     Per- 
haps my  excitement   was  increased  by  the 
remembrance  of  the  impression  I  had  made 
at  supper  last  night,  when  I  casually  men- 
tioned that  I  had  come  to  Munich  to  study 
composition  with  Professor  Thuille.     Every 
one  became  attentive  immediately,  and  spoke 
in  the  highest  terms  of  his  genius  as  a  com- 
poser.    I  felt  not  a  little  proud,  and  some- 
what  uneasy,  at  the   thought  of  meeting 
him. 

"Richard  Strauss  was  a  pupil  of  his," 
said  Herr  Doktor,  calmly,  as  he  helped 
himself  to  a  third  piece  of  black  bread. 
Thereupon  I  really  trembled.  So  now,  in 
order  to  quiet  my  nerves,  I  began  to  look 
about  me. 

[19] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTTIITHIIITIITTITIIIIHHIIIIXIXITIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIHTIIITTIlIimtrrr) 

The  first  thing  which  caught  my  eye  was 
a  landscape  in  vivid  blues  and  greens,  framed 
in  massive  and  evidently  costly  style.  From 
the  inscription  beneath  I  gathered  that  this 
creation  was  the  gift  of  a  grateful  chorus  to 
their  "  beloved  director,  Ludwig  Thuille." 
Over  the  bookcase  hung  several  giant  laurel 
wreaths,  their  leaves  now  crisply  yellowing. 
To  these  were  attached  brilliant,  silver-let- 
tered ribbons  which,  as  they  floated  flam- 
boyantly against  the  subdued  gray  of  the 
wall-paper,  proclaimed  that  these  tokens,  too, 
were  the  gifts  of  appreciative  souls.  The 
table  near  the  door  held  a  beautifully  carved 
loving-cup  of  silver  also  bearing  an  inscrip- 
tion. Truly,  gratitude  must  be  the  virtue 
par  excellence  of  Germany ! 

If  1  had  insensibly  acquired  an  impression 
of  ostentation  from  all  this  array  of  tributes 
—  a  common  custom  of  every  artist  here, 
they  tell  me  —  this  vanished  the  moment 
the  door  opened,  for  Professor  Thuille  and 
anything  like  ostentation  are  as  far  from  one 
another  as  the  poles.  I  was  surprised  to 
see  a  man  so  young  in  appearance,  for  I  had 
[20] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tllllllllHIIIirillllllllliriMIIIIIIIIllllxilTTiiiiiiiitriiiiiiirtrTHTtTtn 

in  some  inexplicable  way  formed  the  idea 
that  he  was  much  older.  My  second  thought 
was  that  I  had  never  seen  so  charming  and 
cordial  a  smile.  Of  course  he  shook  hands, 
as  all  these  people  do,  and  bade  me  be 
seated  while  he  opened  the  letters.  He  is 
short  in  stature,  with  sandy  hair,  and  a  long 
mustache  curled  up  at  the  ends  in  true  im- 
perial manner.  His  eyes,  blue  and  kindly, 
looked  straight  and  sympathetically  at  me. 
His  face  is  deeply  lined  and  shows  tense 
sensitiveness  in  every  feature.  The  rather 
strained  expression  vanishes,  however,  the 
moment  he  smiles.  As  he  turned  over  my 
letters  I  noted  that  the  fingers  of  his  right 
hand  were  stained  a  deep  yellow;  already 
the  faint  aroma  of  cigarette  smoke  had 
reached  me.  Intuitively  I  felt  that  these 
two  things  indicated  one  of  his  characteris- 
tics. I  had  happened  on  the  Leitmotif,  as  it 
were,  of  Thuille. 

"  Ach!    dass  ist  sehr  nctt!"     (That  is 

very  nice  !)  he  said,  laying  down  the  letters. 

"You  know  Herr  Chadwick  and  I  studied 

in  the  same  class  in  the  old  Conservatory. 

[21  j 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTITyTITITITITT;iTITIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIITIIiriiriIIXIIIIIIIIIIIZITIi;;lTTTTTTn 

It  is  indeed  delightful  to  hear  from  him 
again.  And  now  about  yourself.  I  under- 
stand that  you  want  to  study  composition 
with  me,  Fraulein,"  he  continued,  looking  at 
me  with  kindly  scrutiny. 

"  If  you  will  take  me  for  a  pupil,  Herr 
Professor,"  said  I. 

"  I  think  we  can  arrange  it,"  he  said, 
smiling,  "  although  my  time  is  almost 
wholly  occupied.  Tell  me  what  you  have 
already  studied." 

Whereupon  we  launched  into  details, 
and  he  appointed  next  Wednesday  as 
the  time  for  my  first  lesson.  He  does 
not  speak  a  word  of  English,  and  I  found 
him  exceedingly  difficult  to  understand, 
but  he  assures  me  he  is  accustomed  to 
foreigners. 

"  If  we  don't  make  ourselves  intelligible," 
he  ended,  laughing,  "we  can  try  a  few 
French  phrases,  or  even  a  bit  of  Latin,  as  a 
pupil  of  mine  did  the  other  day."  Instead 
of  my  taking  leave  of  him  there,  he  went 
out  to  the  very  door  with  me,  which  he 
opened,  bowing  smilingly,  and  as  it  closed 
[22] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTtTTTItirTTTTTTITHITTtltTIIITtHHIIIITTTrlllllllllllllllllllllllllirTTTTn 

I  felt  wonderfully  less  like  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land. 

At  the  corner  I  took  a  tram  back  to 
town.  They  are  all  alike,  very  short,  and 
painted  the  Bavarian  blue.  Think  of  a  city 
so  patriotic  that  the  street  cars  assume 
the  national  hue!  The  conductor  politely 
touched  his  hat  to  me  as  I  entered.  I 
thought  he  must  have  mistaken  me  for 
some  one  else  till  I  saw  him  salute  each 
passenger  in  the  same  courteous  manner. 
Where  Brienner-strasse  meets  Odeons-Platz 
I  alighted.  This  is  just  by  the  Feldernhalle. 
If  you  have  seen  pictures  of  the  Loggia  at 
Florence  you  can  tell  how  it  looks,  for  it  is 
a  copy  of  the  Italian  building.     Here  I  was 

to  meet  Friiulein  L .     She  is  a  friend  of 

the  Baroness  and  had  offered  to  help  me  in 
hiring  a  piano.  That  elocution  course  of 
ours  proved  very  valuable  to  me  at  this 
stage,  for  had  it  not  been  for  the  telling  and 
effective  gestures  with  winch  I  supple- 
mented my  German  I  might  have  had  in 
my  study  a  far  less  acceptable  instrument 
than  the  excellent  Bliithner  which  now 
[»] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

stands  here  and  for  which  I  pay  the  ab- 
surdly small  sum  of  ten  marks  (two  dollars 
and  a  half)  a  month. 

"  By  the  bye,"  said  I,  as  we  were  walking 
through  Theatiner-strasse,  "did  I  make  a 
great  many  mistakes  in  my  note  to  you?" 

I  meant  this  to  sound  naively  humble, 
but  in  reality  I  had  spent  a  half-hour  on  the 
composition  of  those  ten  lines  and  I  was 
rather  proud  of  the  result. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  smiling,  "you 
merely  asked  me  to  meet  you  on  top  of  the 
Feldernhalle.  1  was  wondering,"  she  added, 
mischievously,  glancing  as  we  passed  at  the 
building's  imposing  height,  "just  how  I 
could  get  up  there." 

For  several  blocks  1  was  silent,  medita- 
ting on  the  sad  results  of  "  pride,  rank  pride 
and  haughtiness  of  soul,"  although  I  fully 
appreciated  her  effort  at  a  joke.  Such  pleas- 
antries are  almost  unheard  of  in  German 
girls,  and  whenever  they  do  say  anything 
facetious  they  look  very  much  frightened, 
as  though  at  a  loss  whether  to  apologize  at 
once  or  explain  how  it  came  to  happen.  I 
[24] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

eillllllllilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllUIIIIIIlrilllllTTTTTTTTTT: 

must  send  you  one  of  the  comic  papers. 
They  considerately  print  the  point  of  a  joke 
in  italics.  One  has  at  least  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  when  to  laugh,  a  virtue  not  to 
be  despised  when  one  considers  the  subtle- 
ties of  modern  wit,  so  called. 

"  This  is  where  I   buy  my   music,"   said 

Fraulein    L ,    stopping   before    a   small 

store,  "  and  if  it  pleases  you  I  will  introduce 
you  here." 

Accordingly  we  went  in,  and  after  meet- 
ing the  proprietor  I  was  initiated  into  the 
mysteries  of  that  very  important  factor  in  a 
student's  life,  an  abonnement.  One  pays 
a  small  sum  for  the  privilege  of  taking  out 
music  from  a  circulating  library  for  a  defi- 
nite length  of  time.  The  arrangement  im- 
pressed me  at  once  as  advantageous,  and  1 
inquired  as  to  the  kinds  of  music  the  cata- 
logue contained.  "  Why,  songs,  operas, 
overtures,  anything  you  care  for,"  said  the 
proprietor,  in  a  patronizing  tone. 

"  Then  I  can  get  orchestral  scores,"  I  said. 

"  Orchestral  scores  ?  "  he  cried,  starting 
back  as  though  I  had  asked  him  to  pluck  the 
[25] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

moon  out  of  the  sky.  "  My  dear  young  lady, 
what  can  you  possibly  want  of  orchestral 
scores  ? "  We  should  call  this  impudence 
in  America,  but  I  really  do  not  think  he  in- 
tended it  as  such.  He  had  simply  not  come 
much  in  contact  with  the  modern  Ameri- 
can girl.  After  explanation  on  both  sides, 
1  found,  however,  that  it  would  be  better 
for  me  to  obtain  scores  from  the  Conserva- 
tory, which  I  intend  to  enter,  and  where,  I 
learn,  all  the  standard  scores  are  on  hand. 

You  would  hardly  believe  me  if  I  should 
tell  you  how  many  bareheaded,  blue- 
aproned  girls  we  met  carrying  beer  through 
the  streets  during  our  walk  home.  But  my 
surprise  at  the  sight  was  lost  in  greater 
amazement  at  beholding  the  number  of 
steins  they  are  able  to  carry  at  one  time. 
Not  two  or  three,  my  dear,  but  six,  yes, 
even  ten,  in  one  hand.  It  is  an  art  in  itself. 
If  one  is  careless  and  holds  the  handful  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  from  perpendicular,  the 
beer  comes  oozing  out  at  the  top  and  tric- 
kles on  the  sidewalk.  This  disturbs  no  one 
in  the  least.  As  we  passed  the  droschky 
[«] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTTTTTTttTtTIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllim 

stand  on  Max-Joseph-Platz  about  eleven 
o'clock,  there  stood  all  the  cabbies  lounging 
against  their  carnages  or  ranged  along  the 
curbstones,  leisurely  drinking  great  steins  of 
frothy  beer  which  one  of  these  blue-aproned 
girls  had  just  brought.  When  they  finished 
they  set  their  empty  mugs  on  the  window 
ledges  of  the  building.  Imagine  a  dozen  of 
our  hackmen  draining  steins  on  Brimstone 
Corner  and  then  leaving  them  in  a  row  on 
the  steps  of  Park  Street  Church  ! 

How  can  I  write  you  about  the  evening 
or  rather  afternoon  and  evening  which  fol- 
lowed ?  When  I  tell  you  that  it  was  my 
first  hearing  of  "  Tristan  and  Isolde  "  in  the 
wonderful  new  Prince  Regent  Theatre,  are 
you  surprised  that  I  hesitate  ?  I  will  let  you 
read  for  yourself  in  the  infallible  lied  Book 
of  the  unique  construction  of  the  house 
which  is  used  for  the  reproduction  of 
Wagner's  operas  alone,  of  the  peculiar  stage, 
and  of  that  stroke  of  genius,  the  concealed 
orchestra.  If  I  attempted  any  explanations 
I  should  fail  lamentably,  for  all  else  is  for- 

r*r] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTtTtTirTTTTtlHiyTTtttnllIHItlllllTTIIIiriliniTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTXTTT^ 

gotten  in  the  memory  of  that  glorious  music. 
The  crowd  of  magnificently  dressed  people 
promenading  between  the  acts  through  res- 
taurant, garden,  and  corridors,  the  strange 
types  of  musicians  from  every  quarter  of 
the  globe,  the  trumpet  calls  to  summon  us 
back  to  our  places  —  all  are  now  a  confused 
medley  of  impressions.  I  only  see  Knote, 
as  Tristan,  quaffing  the  fatal  draught,  and 
Ternina,  a  regal  Isolde,  waving  her  white 
scarf  in  the  mysterious  moonlight  of  that 
most  alluring  of  gardens. 

Who  was  it  said  that  in  Tristan  the 
"  thrills  relieve  one  another  in  squads  "  ?  It 
seems  to  me  there  is  no  respite :  one  is  swept 
along  and  borne  aloft  uninterruptedly  by 
the  power  of  the  music  —  music  magical  in 
its  chromatic  beauty,  tremendous  in  its  in- 
tensity. Breathless,  at  the  final  fall  of  the 
curtain,  I  hardly  realized  my  physical  ex- 
haustion till  we  reached  home.  The  strain 
in  endeavoring  to  follow  the  multi-woven 
orchestration,  as  well  as  the  action,  had  not 
been  a  light  one. 

During  one  of  the  pauses  I  caught  sight 
[28] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


tuiiii 


tTITinitTITITXIIIITIIIIIIIITTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIItlTIXIXIIIIIUlrllTTTTl 


of  a  slender,  rather  pale  young  man  elbow- 
ing his  way  through  the  crowd.  I  turned 
to  look  at  him,  for  his  face  struck  me  as 
strangely  familiar.  Who  do  you  think  it 
was  ?  Siegfried  Wagner !  Fancy  what 
his  feelings  must  be  to  see  all  this  homage 
paid  to  his  father's  genius. 

Sunday. 

As  a  result  of  my  intoxication  last  night 
—  if  one  may  so  call  it  —  I  overslept  this 
morning  and  was  in  danger  of  being  late  to 
church.  In  fact,  the  people  were  already 
on  their  knees  when  we  entered  the  little 
chapel  which  is  the  home  of  American 
church  life  here.  The  name  chapel  is  only 
applied  out  of  compliment,  for  it  is  really  a 
large  room  with  improvised  altar  at  one  end, 
a  piano  in  the  corner,  and  rows  of  chairs  for 
pews.  It  seemed,  however,  as  fine  as  a 
cathedral  to  us,  and  how  beautiful  it  sounded 
to  hear  those  familiar  old  prayers  again  in 
our  mother  tongue,  while  everywhere  with- 
out these  walls  was  the  babble  of  a  foreign 
language. 

[29] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTtTtTTTtTTT»tIIHirTTTttTIHTTTttIIIIHtHTTIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirrTTyn 

At  the  close  of  the  service,  as  the  rector 
was  reading  that  most  impressive  of  prayers, 
the  prayer  for  those  at  sea,  and  we  were  fol- 
lowing with  more  than  usual  devoutness,  for 
the  dangers  and  perils  of  the  great  deep 
were  still  very  real  to  us,  bang !  the  blare  of 
trumpet,  thud  of  drum,  and  thunder  of 
trombone  burst  on  the  stillness,  and  the 
sound  of  a  lively  march,  the  sort  to  make 
one's  feet  tingle,  came  ever  louder  and 
louder  to  our  ears.  I  expected  to  see 
the  rectors  face  change  and  to  hear  him 
hurriedly  close,  but  no,  his  voice  kept  on 
peacefully,  unconcernedly,  and  the  people 
knelt  absorbed  as  though  the  thought  of 
worldly  things  was  far  removed.  I  must 
confess  I  found  it  hard  to  keep  my  mind 
fastened  on  the  spiritual ;  it  was  my  first 
experience  of  hearing  anything  from  the 
ritual  accompanied  by  Sousa  music,  and 
the  irreverence  shocked  me. 

I  was  eager  to  inquire  about  the  music, 

but  after  the  service,  as  we  reached  the  end 

of  the  aisle,  the  rector  came  forward  with 

outstretched  hand.      The  consul,  to  whom 

[30] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iii!»i!i;;!iiiiiTiiiiimiimTiiiiiit;titiiiniiiiiim»iiimmmiinTT 

we  had  letters,  had  told  him  of  the  two  new 
strangers  in  the  colony,  and  his  welcome  was 
most  cordial. 

"  I  want  you  both  to  come  to  tea  at  the 
Russicher  Hof  to-morrow,  if  you  will  par- 
don the  unconventionally  of  my  invitation," 
said  his  wife,  a  bustling  little  woman  in  black. 
"  There  will  be  several  music  students  on 
hand  and  it  may  be  pleasant  for  you  to  meet 
one  another."  We  thanked  her  heartily. 
One  appreciates  these  things  so  much  when 
away  from  home. 

The  music  had  now  begun  again,  this  time 
abandoning  the  martial  for  the  romantic, 
and  giving  out  the  opening  strains  of  Von 
Weber  s  overture  to  Der  Freisch'ut::. 

"It's  more  than  a  brass  band,"  said  I, 
urging  MuttcrcJtcu  along.  "  There  are 
clarinets  and  flutes.     Do  lets  hurry." 

We  turned  down  the  little  archway  which 
led  from  the  chapel  door  to  the  main  street, 
and  voilaf  there  was  a  picture  well  worth 
seeing.  Have  I  explained  that  in  front  of 
the  Feldernhalle  is  a  triangular  open  space  ? 
This  now  was  thronged  with  a  gayly  attired 
[31] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTtTtTTTTITTTTtfllillTTTITtltHITTITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHHmiXIIHin 

crowd,  who  were  promenading  up  and  down 
or  chatting  in  small  groups,  while  from  the 
balcony  of  the  Feldernhalle  itself  came  the 
sound  of  inspiring  music  played  by  the  great 
military  band  of  the  city. 

One  caught  the  irresistible  charm  of  color 
enhanced  by  sunshine.  The  scarlet  uni- 
forms of  the  officers  who  were  everywhere, 
the  bright  caps  of  the  students,  the  gleam- 
ing helmets  of  the  officials  set  off  against 
the  dark  background  of  the  Alte  Residenz 
lent  an  artistic  touch  to  a  scene  already 
brilliant.  : 

"  Is  n't  it  splendid  ?  "  cried  I,  excitedly,  as 
we  moved  along  with  the  laughing  throng. 
"Just  see,  3£uttcrchen,  there's  an  officer 
kissing  that  lady's  hand.  It 's  like  a  scene 
from  a  play." 

"It's  all  a  rather  strange  sight  on  Sun- 
day," replied  Mutterchen,  smiling  gently. 

I  suddenly  remembered  my  Puritan  an- 
cestors and  felt  I  ought  to  shut  my  ears  to 
the  fascinating  lilt  of  the  "  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor"  overture. 

"I  don't  believe  Cotton  Mather  himself 
[32] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HIIIIIIIIIIITIIITrillHriTtllllllTIIIIIIIITIIITTTIITTTTTTTTlIIIIIHITTTTTTTTI 

would  call  these  people  wicked,"  I  said, 
with  a  glance  at  the  happy  crowd  about  me. 

Just  then  the  student  from  our  'pension 
passed  us  with  a  low  bow.  There  were  a 
number  of  young  men  with  him,  all  wearing 
round  caps  of  black  and  purple.  (The  col- 
ors indicate  the  corps  or  club  to  which  they 
belong.)  Do  you  know  that  the  men  bow 
first  in  this  country  ?  To  the  masculine  sex 
is  allotted  the  right  to  accept  or  reject  an 
acquaintance.     Is  n't  that  truly  German  ? 

We  were  glad  that  Herr  Martens  had 
condescended  to  recognize  us,  for  it  gave  us 
a  pleasant  sensation  to  realize  we  were  not 
utterly  unacquainted  in  that  great  throng  of 
people.  Not  two  minutes  later,  who  should 
swoop  down  upon  us  but  Frau  von  Wald- 
fel.  Cecilia  mia,  don't  let  me  hear  of  your 
banishing  "  swoop  "  to  the  category  of  slang. 
I  am  much  attached  to  that  invaluable 
word.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  gull  circling 
with  wide-spread  wings  above  a  fish  in  the 
water  beneath,  and  then  suddenly  dart 
down  and  bear  away  his  prey  ?  When  cer- 
tain people  accost  me  this  picture  invariably 
3  [33] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

comes  to  my  mind.  -  Frau  von  Waldfel 
swoops  down  and  captures  one  like  the  gull, 
while  I  play  the  part  of  the  unfortunate  fish. 

"  So  you  are  enjoying  the  Parada,  are 
you  ? "  she  began.  She  had  once  spent  a 
season  in  London,  and  so  caught  the 
English  habit  of  making  her  remarks  inter- 
rogative. "  We  always  have  this  music 
every  Sunday.  I  've  been  doing  a  little 
shopping,  you  see,  on  my  way  home  from 
church."  (She  pointed  to  a  number  of 
small  packages  under  her  arm.)  "  I  've  or- 
dered some  cakes  sent  up  to  the  pension. 
Did  you  know  the  tarts  here  are  not  nearly 
so  good  as  those  in  Berlin  ?  Dear  me,  I 
have  quite  forgotten  whether  you  said  you 
had  been  there  or  not.  Your  daughter  is 
such  a  quiet  girl,"  she  added  to  Mutter chen, 
"  I  never  can  draw  her  out." 

Miltterchen  gave  an  involuntary  gasp  at 
this  last  remark. 

"  Are  all  the  stores  open  Sunday  ? "  I 
said,  endeavoring  to  show  I  could  make 
conversation.  All  I  needed  was  an  oppor- 
tunity. 

[34] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HXIlIIITITTITITIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIi;iIIIIIIIIITIHIi;iIIITIi;miIIliiHTTn 

"  Of  course  !  Why  not  ?  "  she  answered, 
as  we  turned  our  steps  towards  Maximilian- 
Platz.  "  They  close  at  one  o'  clock  ;  on 
other  days  at  half-past  seven  in  the  evening. 
I  'm  a  regular  guide-book,  much  more  prac- 
tical than  that  red  one  I  see  you  carry. 
Speaking  of  Berlin  tarts,  I  want  to  tell  you 

that    I    never  ate "  and  so   on — can't 

you  hear  her  ?  —  till  we  reached  the  door. 

We  spent  a  quiet  afternoon  reading  and 
writing  letters.  After  supper  the  Baroness 
invited  us  to  come  into  the  salon.  "  I 
always  try  to  make  Sunday  evening  a  pleas- 
ant time,"  she  said.  What  was  our  surprise 
on  entering  to  see  them  all  seated  around 
a  table  playing  cards.  They  seemed  much 
disappointed  that  we  did  not  join  them. 

If  this  letter  of  mine  is  posted  to-night,  it 
will  catch  the  New  York  mail  steamer,  so 
I  shall  send  it  out  now  by  Georg,  the  man- 
servant of  the  house.  Auf  Wicdcrschcn, 
and  don't  forget  I  am  hungry  for  news  of 
everything  at  home. 


[35 


IimTITIIITimillTIITIIIITIIITiriTTIITITTTTTItTITTIIITIIITITTTTITIIIII] 


ri:i:i:innriiiiii:iiiiiiriiiim:iiiiiiiriiiriiiiiniiTiiiiiiii  lining 


iiiixixxiiiiiiiniiiiiirrmzriirrrnirmTiTrrrmTiiriiiixixxx^! 


Liliiiiiii 


October  A. 
Top  o  the  morning,  Cecy  dear  ! 

^^UCH    A    GLORIOUS,    ALLE- 

^^  gro  vivace  day !  The  sun  is  shining, 
A^/  the  air  is  crisp  and  cool,  and  the 
sauciest  of  breezes  is  coquetting  with  the 
tree-tops  in  the  Platz.  It  gets  into  one's 
blood,  a  morning  like  this,  and  the  wildest 
dreams  seem  possible  of  fulfilment.  I  came 
home  from  my  lesson  humming  the  theme 
of  the  scherzo  of  Beethoven's  eighth  sym- 
phony. It  seemed  to  fit  the  buoyancy  of 
my  mood  as  nothing  else  could. 

I  can  see  you  smile  now  and  hear  you 
say,  "  It 's  quite  evident  she  is  happy  in  her 
new  surroundings."  Exactly  so,  my  dear, 
and  there  are  so  many  delightful  things  to 
tell  you  about  that  I  don't  know  where  to 
begin.  However,  the  Conservatory  forms 
one  of  the  most  vital  elements  of  my  new 
life  here,  so  I  '11  start  by  telling  you  of  my 
first  visit  there. 

Be  it  known,  then,  that  the  Royal  Con- 
servatory of  Munich,  to  give  it  its  full  title, 
I  89  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

opened  the  eighteenth,  and  promptly  at  nine 
o'clock  I  made  my  way  thither.  What  a 
rambling  old  building  it  is,  and  how  re- 
plete with  association  !  So  many  musicians 
have  studied  here  at  some  time  or  other, 
although  Rheinberger  and  many  of  the 
teachers  who  have  made  it  famous  are  now 
memories  of  the  past.  With  a  certain  in- 
definable thrill  I  realized  I  was  actually 
within  these  walls. 

Instead  of  the  Herein!  which  I  expected 
to  hear  in  response  to  my  knock  on  the 
door  of  the  director's  room,  Stavenhagen 
himself  opened  the  door.  I  wonder  if  you 
heard  him  play  when  he  was  in  Amer- 
ica. He's  a  handsome  man,  not  much 
above  thirty,  with  blue  eyes,  firm  chin, 
straight  nose,  and  curly  blond  hair  and 
mustache. 

In  fact,  he  has  all  the  delightful  character- 
istics of  a  German,  and  none  of  the  unlovely 
ones.  Besides  this,  he  is  tall,  a  rarity  in 
men  of  his  nation. 

"  Eine  Amerikanerin  /  "  he  said  pleasantly, 
pushing  a  chair  forward.  "  I  speak  a  lee-tle 
[40] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tITHTTTItttTTtTIITTTTTTTIHIIIITIITI?IITIIIIIIIIIIIIIir;iIIIIIIIIIIISrTTTTn 

English,  but,"  he  went  on  in  German, 
"  perhaps  we  will  make  more  progress  if  I 
stick  to  my  mother  tongue." 

"  1  speak  a  very  little  German,"  said  I,  smil- 
ing, not  feeling  in  the  least  afraid  of  him, 
and  forthwith  explained  my  situation  and 
what  I  wished  to  do  at  the  school.  A 
little  man,  whose  face,  beard,  and  hair  all 
seemed  the  same  reddish  color,  was  looking 
over  a  pile  of  letters  in  the  corner  of  the 
room.  He  now  glanced  up  at  me  curiously 
as  I  began  my  inquiries  about  the  Partitur 
Lesen  (score  reading)  class  of  which  I  had 
read  in  the  catalogue. 

You  know  that  five  years  ago  women 
were  not  allowed  to  study  counterpoint  at 
the  Conservatory.  In  fact,  anything  more 
advanced  than  elementary  harmony  was  de- 
barred. The  ability  of  the  feminine  intellect 
to  comprehend  the  intricacies  of  a  stretto,  or 
cope  with  double  counterpoint  in  the  tenth,  if 
not  openly  denied,  was  severely  questioned. 
This  carefully  nourished  conservatism  has 
yielded  considerably.  The  counterpoint 
class  is  now  open  to  women,  although  as  yet 
[  U] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

comparatively  few  avail  themselves  of  the 
opportunity.  Formerly,  too,  all  the  teachers 
in  the  Conservatory  were  men,  but  one  finds 
to-day  two  women  enrolled  as  professors 
among  the  forty  on  the  list. 

"  I  should  like  to  enter  the  Pa?~titur  Lesen 
class,"  said  I,  innocently,  not  then  having 
learned  all  this. 

Stavenhagen  looked  at  the  little  man. 
The  little  man  looked  back  at  Stavenhagen. 
If  I  had  thrown  a  bombshell  they  could  not 
have  appeared  more  startled.  The  little 
man  at  once  abandoned  his  letters  and  stood 
staring,  a  few  feet  in  front  of  me. 

"  There  have  never  been  any  women  in 
the  class.  I  am  right,  am  I  not,  Herr  Sek- 
retariat  ?  "  said  Stavenhagen. 

"You  are  right,  Herr  Director"  responded 
the  other.  He  held  his  hands  behind  him 
and  gazed  at  me  as  one  might  at  a  curious 
species  of  animal.  I  felt  I  ought  to  be 
tagged,  like  those  poor  creatures  in  the  Zoo, 
"  Rare.     From  North  America." 

"  Is    the    class    full,    Herr    Sekretariat  ? 
inquired  Stavenhagen. 
[42] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

"  About  thirty  men  have  registered,  Herr 
Direktor"  solemnly  answered  the  secretary. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Have  you  ever  played  string  quarters 
from  score,  Fraulein  ? "  inquired  the  director. 

" Yes,  Herr  Direktor"  said  I,  with  that 
supreme  calmness  which  comes  at  times 
when  one  is  inwardly  much  disturbed. 
Again  there  was  a  pause.  Even  I  began  to  be 
impressed  by  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  director,  "  because  a 
Fraulein  never  has  joined  the  class  is  no 
reason  why  a  Fraulein  never  can." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  secretary.  The 
gravity  of  his  expression  was  worthy  a 
crisis  in  the  affairs  of  state. 

The  two  men  walked  to  the  other  side 
of  the  room,  and  while  they  conversed  in 
whispers  I  stood  gazing  out  of  the  window 
at  the  equestrian  statue  in  the  Platz,  unable 
to  hide  the  smile  at  the  corners  of  my 
mouth.  Although  conscious  of  my  many 
peculiarities,  I  had  never  before  considered 
myself  an  abnormal  being,  and  to  be  so  re- 
garded struck  me  as  amusing. 
[43] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

It  seemed  to  take  them  a  long  time  to 
come  to  a  decision.  When  my  impatience 
had  subsided  to  a  state  of  hopelessness, 
Stavenhagen  came  forward. 

"  Your  request  is  unusual,  Fraulein,"  he 
began,  "  but  —  but  —  well,  you  may  come 
on  Friday  at  three  o'clock." 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  I  bowed  myself  out 
in  approved  German  fashion,  feeling  as 
might  the  immortal  Napoleon  after  a  hard- 
won  victory. 

The  first  Kaim-Saal  concert  of  the  season 
came  in  the  evening.  The  Kaim-Saal  is  a 
splendid  hall  with  a  large  organ,  where  most 
of  the  concerts  are  held.  There  was  a  fine 
program  including  Beethoven's  first  sym- 
phony. I  was  greatly  interested  to  see 
Weingartner  conduct.  He  looked  very 
young  as  he  stepped  to  the  platform.  He 
is  slight  and  dark,  with  brown,  clever  eyes. 
I  must  confess  that  at  first  I  did  not  like  his 
conducting  at  all.  It  seemed  to  me  extreme 
and  even  sensational.  However,  as  I  became 
accustomed  to  his  extravagant  methods,  the 
earnestness  and  power  of  the  man  impressed 
[44] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rilTTTTTITTIIIITIITIITITITHITIITTTTITITIIIIIIIIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTtTTTTTTTl 

me  more  and  more.  When  it  came  to  the 
Beethoven  number  he  directed  without 
score.  He  fairly  swept  the  orchestra  along, 
and  his  every  gesture  was  pregnant  with 
meaning.  1  could  not  help  thinking  of 
Gerickes  straight  immovable  figure  as  I  saw 
Weingartner  wave  wildly  to  right  and  left, 
rise  on  tiptoe,  sway  forward,  and  now,  by 
one  tense,  quick  movement  of  his  stick, 
bring  his  men  to  a  grand  climax.  Some- 
times he  even  let  his  beat  cease  entirely  and 
his  arm  drop  to  his  side,  while  the  orchestra 
seemed  to  carry  itself  along  like  a  wheel 
which  continues  revolving  after  the  force 
which  propelled  it  has  stopped. 

My  enthusiasm  caught  fire  from  his,  and 
at  the  close  of  the  concert  I  was  cheering  as 
wildly  as  the  rest  of  the  audience.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  many  times  he  came  forward 
to  bow  his  thanks  amid  the  cries  of  "  Bravo  ! 
Bravo  !  "  He  seemed  to  enjoy  it  all  hugely 
and  kept  smiling  down  on  us.  When  he 
does  that  his  face  loses  every  bit  of  dignity 
and  he  looks  like  nothing  so  much  as  a 
roguish  boy. 

[46] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fT^TTTTTTTTTtITItTTTITITIIIT»IIIIIIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIITIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTn 

On  our  way  down  to  the  Garderobe, 
where  every  one  checks  one's  things  for  the 
fee  of  twenty  pfennigs  (five  cents),  we  met 

Mr.  B .     He  is  a  harmless  young  curate 

from  the  north  of  England  ;  one  of  those 
men  who  have  soft,  gentle  voices,  Van  Dyke 
beards,  and  always  sit  on  the  edge  of  a  chair. 
He  had  been  to  the  church  tea  that  after- 
noon, and  shown  a  praiseworthy  desire  to 
make  himself  agreeable. 

"  Ah,  good  evening,"  he  said,  "  was  it  not 
a  beautiful  concert  ?  And  so  uplifting !  I 
see  you  have  the  score  to  —  to " 

"  The  Beethoven  symphony,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Beethoven  has  indeed  caught 
the  spiritual  note,  don't  you  think  so  ?  It 
seems  to  me  he  is  at  his  best  in  that  won- 
derful adagio  vivace  movement." 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  we  have 
two  new  arrivals  at  the  pension,  namely,  the 
Poet  and  his  wife.  I  have  n't  the  slightest 
idea  what  their  name  is  except  that  it  is  very 
long  and  very  unpronounceable.  She  is  a 
dear  little  placid-faced  woman  of  middle 
age,  and  he  looks  like  one  of  Raphael's 
[46] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


[IimrinilllllllllllllMIIMfTTTTTTTTTTn 


cherubs  in  twentieth  century  clothes.  In 
spite  of  his  infantile  expression,  however,  I 
hear  he  has  quite  a  reputation  among  men 
of  letters. 

A  Fraulein  Hartmann  is  expected  to- 
morrow, and  that  will  complete  our  house- 
hold for  the  winter.  She  is  the  niece  of 
Frau  von  Waldfel,  who  declares  they  greatly 
resemble  each  other.  I  can  just  imagine  her  : 
younger  but  with  the  same  stout  figure, 
rasping  voice,  and  beady  eyes  !  I  do  hope 
she  won't  be  put  next  me  at  table. 

To-day,  while  we  were  waiting  in  the 
salon  for  dinner  to  be  announced,  I 
chanced  to  play  a  few  bars  from  a  piece 
by  MacDowell. 

"  Is  that  by  your  national  composer, 
Sousa  ?  "  inquired  Herr  Doktor.  ' 

I  hastily  informed  him  that  it  was  not. 

"  Why  !  I  did  n't  know  you  had  any  other 
composers  of  importance,"  he  remarked,  with 
interest. 

It  is  a  sad  but  true  fact  that  American 
music  has,  as  yet,  won  no  footing  in 
Germany. 

[47] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tllHIITITTTITIIIIITTIIIIIIIIZtHIIIIIIIIIII^IXIIIXItlllTITIIlIXIHIIItHITn 

Wednesday. 

This  afternoon  I  had  my  first  lesson  with 
Thuille.  I  arrived  just  as  the  clock  was 
striking  two,  and  was  shown  at  once  into 
a  large  room,  which  in  its  furnishings 
and  harmony  of  color  betrays  the  artistic 
nature  of  its  owner.  An  atmosphere  of 
cigarette  smoke  hung  about  everything,  and 
through  the  floating  clouds  by  the  win- 
dows I  discerned  Thuille  just  taking  a 
final  puff,  tossing  his  cigarette  away  and 
coming  to  meet  me  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"Ach!  Ghiten  Tag,  Fraulein!"  he  said, 
with  a  genial  smile  which  put  me  instantly 
at  my  ease.  Then  he  pulled  forward  a  chair 
beside  his  own  at  the  desk  and  bade  me  be 
seated.  As  I  took  my  place  a  big  white 
and  brown  hunting  dog  crawled  out  from 
the  corner. 

"  This  is  my  greatest  pet,"  explained  the 

professor,  caressing  the  dog,  who  looked  up 

with  devoted  eyes  at  his  master's  face.     "  I 

call   him   Tasso.     Tasso,  let  me  introduce 

[48] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

Lmximiiixii:ii»i:i»iiiiriiiiiriiiiiiiiiiii»iTiiiiiin»t>Liiin D 

you  to  a  young  American  lady  !     Make  a 
bow  and  then  lie  down." 

Tasso  obeyed  in  the  cleverest  fashion, 
Thuille  watching  him  with  pride.  This 
introduction  over,  he  turned  to  begin  the 
lesson. 

I  had  brought,  as  he  requested,  all  the 
past  work  which   I   had  with  me,  and  he 
spent   the   entire   hour   in   looking  it  over, 
asking   questions  and   arranging  a  plan  of 
study.     I  told  him  that  I  wanted  that  firm 
foundation    which     German     thoroughness 
gives  one,  and  he  suggested  that  I  begin  by 
a  review  commencing  with  four-part  choral 
writing,  then  simple  counterpoint,  and  so  on. 
This  will  form  what  I  call  the  technical  part 
of  my  study,  and  besides  this  I  am  to  do  a 
certain  amount  of  free  work  and  orchestra- 
tion.     Doesn't   it    sound    interesting?      I 
hurried   home  in  a  fever  of  impatience  to 
begin  the  lesson  he  has  given  me  for  Satur- 
day, only  to  find  callers  in  the  salon.     They 
proved  to  be  two  New  York  girls,  also  music 
students.     They   are   studying    piano   with 
Frau    Langenhan-Hirzel,  who   is  herself  a 

4  [49] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

cTiinniiiiniiiimtiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiixiiiriiiiiini:in;iiiiiixiii:iiixixm 

pupil  of  Lescheticsky.  Both  are  intensely 
enthusiastic  over  their  work,  and  practise 
from  five  to  six  hours  a  day.      After  our 

coffee,  Miss  B offered  to  show  me  where 

her  studio  was,  so,  leaving  her  friend,  who 
had  a  lesson,  we  walked  down  the  Platz  and 
up  seven  and  ninety  stairs  to  a  tiny  room 

under  the  eaves.    It  seems  that  Miss  B 

is  not  allowed  to  practise  in  the  'pension 
where  she  lives,  owing  to  the  fact  that  three 
other  students  are  singing,  playing,  or  violin- 
scraping  all  day  long,  and  the  Frau  landlady 
feared  that  another  musician  would  banish 
utterly    her     supply    of    winter    boarders. 

Hence    Miss  B was  forced  to   seek  a 

place  to  practise  outside,  and  finally  found 
a  secluded  room  on  the  top  floor  of  an 
old  house  at  the  very  end  of  the  Platz. 
In  the  subduing  atmosphere  of  an  under- 
taker's family  she  has  made  her  musical 
home.  The  room  is  very  small.  One 
corner  of  the  ceiling  has  caved  in  and 
threatens  momentarily  to  fall.  The  only 
furniture  is  a  cracked  mirror,  two  rickety 
chairs,  and  a  fine  grand  piano,  which 
[50] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rrmTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIi:iIITITITlllllTlllli:iiTi;ii;i;iriii;iiiriiiiTiTTT-n 

looks  laughably  out  of  place  in  these 
surroundings. 

"  There 's  only  one  thing  that  bothers 
me,"  she  said,  running  over  a  bit  of  Chopin. 
"Just  mark  the  effect  of  a  forte"  She 
played  a  crashing  chord,  and  presto !  the 
tiny,  diamond  panes  of  the  windows  rattled 
sharply  in  echo.  Again  a  sforzando  chord 
rang  out,  again  came  the  jarring  response. 

"Isn't  it  awful?"  she  sighed.  "My 
nerves  are  getting  worn  to  shreds ! " 

Believe  me,  people  at  home  don't  know 
one  half  the  trials  of  Munich  music  stu- 
dents. 

October  20,  10.30  P.  M. 

To-night  we  made  our  first  visit  to  the 
Hof-Theatre,  which  is  the  main  opera  house 
of  the  city,  and  heard  Humperdinck's 
Hansel  unci  Grctel  I  like  the  house 
immensely,  its  five  balconies  in  white  and 
gold  are  so  impressive.  The  curtain  is  old 
rose  in  color,  and  on  it  the  letter  L  is 
inscribed  at  intervals  —  for  the  unfortunate 
king,  you  know.  What  do  you  think  I 
[51] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTTTTTlTlrttiriltlllllllXIIIIIXISIIITIIIXIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIXIIIIIIIlITT 

paid  for  my  seat?  Only  fifty-five  cents  — 
and  sat,  too,  in  the  orchestra.  At  the  Con- 
servatory last  week  I  received  an  oblong  bit 
of  paper,  a  sort  of  certificate,  which  states 
that  I  am  pursuing  a  course  of  musical 
study  here.  On  presenting  this  at  the  box 
office  1  can  get  a  seat  in  the  rear  of  the  par- 
quet (which  corresponds  to  our  orchestra)  for 
just  half  price.  The  seats  do  not  extend 
under  the  balcony,  so  they  are  really  very 
desirable.  The  extra  five  cents  is  for  Vorver- 
kauft,  which  means  a  fee  for  buying  tickets 
in  advance. 

The  opera  itself  is  the  most  charming 
thing  of  its  kind  I  have  ever  heard.  The 
story  is  a  fairy-tale  concerning  the  delight- 
ful adventures  of  two  children.  Bosetti, 
a  stout  little  German  in  spite  of  the  Italian 
ring  to  her  name,  played  Gretel  and  Friiulein 
Tordeck  took  the  part  of  Hansel.  Both 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  piece  and  sang  and 
acted  excellently.  The  music  is  fascinat- 
ing in  the  extreme,  and  some  of  it  —  the 
prayer  of  the  two  mites  in  the  wood,  for 
example,  which  brought  the  tears  to  my 
[52] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rniiiiiiriiHTti!imimiiiriii;imimimiimiTiimtMiiimii;Tntr;i 

eyes  —  very  beautiful.  There  is  no  inter- 
ruption. The  music  continues  even  during 
the  pauses  between  the  three  so-called  pic- 
tures of  the  opera.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
second  picture,  which  is  laid  in  a  wood, 
Gretel  sings  the  loveliest  solo,  with  the 
strings  pizzicato  and  a  flute  obligato.  Then 
there  is  a  wonderful  scene  showing  a  flight 
of  golden  stairs  thronged  with  white-robed 
angels  who  go  up  and  down,  while  the 
children  lie  sleeping  beneath  a  tree.  If  all 
the  operas  are  produced  as  finely  as  this  one 
I  shall  certainly  think  Germany  the  heaven 
of  composers. 

Yesterday  Friiulein  Hartmann,  Frau  von 
Waldfel's  niece,  arrived  and  proved  a  most 
agreeable  surprise.  Far  from  being  what  I 
had  pictured,  she  is  the  prettiest  creature 
imaginable,  slight,  with  blue  eyes,  rosy 
cheeks,  two  fascinating  dimples  which  come 
and  go  as  she  talks,  and  a  bewildering  pro- 
fusion of  light,  fluffy  hair  which  stubbornly 
refuses  to  remain  in  order,  but  curls  about 
her  head  like  a  halo.  Her  aunt  is  immensely 
proud  of  her,  although  she  treats  her  like  a 
[53] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

r>nM»iii»iiiim»niniTtMimirTiiTmiiimniiiiimmmmmiiin 

child.     The  chief  cause  of  her  pride  seems 
to  be  that  her  niece  is  engaged  —  verlobt,  as 
they  say  —  to  a  German  officer.     You  know 
it  is  considered  the  thing  to  marry  into  the 
army  here,  for  it  gives   a   woman   at   once 
the  best  social  position,  consequently  all  the 
young   lieutenants   are   run  after  by  diplo- 
matic  mammas   and    ambitious    daughters, 
until  I  should  think  they  would  want  to  cry 
"  Hold  !  Enough  !  "     I    believe    the   neces- 
sary dowry  which  the  girl's  parents  pay  over 
on    the   wedding   day   is    twelve    thousand 
marks,  unless  the  bridegroom  can  show  that 
he  has  that  amount  of  money.     It  is,  how- 
ever, proverbial  that  the  chief  possession  of 
a  lieutenant  are   his   unpaid  bills,  hence  it 
seldom  occurs  that  he  himself  can  afford  to 
marry  at  his  own  free  will. 

Fraulein  Hartmann,  while  essentially 
German  in  type,  has  an  unusually  sweet 
expression  characterized  by  a  curious  little 
droop  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth  which 
puzzles  me  a  bit.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  the 
result  of  a  spoiled  nature,  for  her  patience 
with  her  aunt's  querulousness  belies  that, 
[54] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

but  it  seems  rather  the  expression  which  we 
associate  with  unhappiness  or  pain.  At  any 
rate  she  is  decidedly  the  most  interesting 
person  in  the  pension,  and  I  hope  to  know 
her  better. 

Six  o'clock. 
The  day  is  dying  royally,  and  as  I  look 
out  across  the  now  brown  and  barren  tree- 
tops  of  the  Platz,  I  see  a  sky  which  is  one 
blaze  of  glory.     There  is  always  music  in 
the   clouds.      Have    you   never   heard    the 
tender,  inspiring  melody  in  soft,  fleecy  puffs 
as  they  float  in  a  sea  of  azure  —  or  caught 
the  melancholy  strains  of  cello  and  oboe  in 
lowering  gray  masses  against  a  background 
darker   still?     On   an   afternoon    like   this, 
surely  you  have  thrilled  in  response  to  the 
piercing  cry  of  trumpets,  horns,  and  trom- 
bones, in  the  riotous  masses  of  scarlet,  violet, 
and  gold  which  flood  the  heaven  ?     It  does 
not  last  long,  this  intoxicating  draught  of 
color  and  melody,  for,  as  I  watch,  the  clouds 
dissolve  with  the  resolution  of  a  chord.     I 
can  hear  the  diminuendo  rallentando  of  the 
[  55  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CTTTITITITTTTTItHirTTITtTHIHIIHITIIITTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXinXXir: 

orchestra  as  the  gold  dulls,  the  scarlet  fades 
to  rose,  the  rose  to  pink.  It  hovers  —  this 
last,  long  streak  —  in  one  delicate  flush 
against  the  violet  sky,  while  the  strings 
sustain  pianissimo  the  tonic  harmony.  Then 
it  suddenly  dies,  and  the  music  with  it. 
The  day  is  done. 


[56] 


ITTTTTi;irTTITTTITHi;iIl;iIITIIITITITTTTIIIiriIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIirilrri:ri 


III 


rTTTtiTTiTTniTitiiiTiriiiniiTiiiiuriiiixriiirniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriniiix; 


iiiitiiiiiiiiririininni;iiii;iiniittiTiiiiTitii-»iirnTiTTiiinttnrrrTT 


mmimimimniiimmiiirnHminiimiiiiimiiniiiiTniirim 


Munich,  November  8. 

J^EHOLD    ME    RECOVERING 

r^^this  morning  from  the  effects  of  my 
-^ — J  first  participation  in  German  frivol- 
ity. The  occasion  was  the  Namens-Tag 
(name  day)  of  the  Baroness. 

"  You  see  to-day  is  mother's  saint's  day, 
the  one  for  whom  she  was  named,"  explained 
Karl,  not  very  clearly,  at  dinner. 

"  Is  it  the  custom  to  celebrate  this  instead 
of  the  birthday  ?  "  I  inquired. 

Karl  looked  at  me  with  an  expression  of 
pity  at  my  ignorance. 

"  We  always  have  a  fete  on  both  days," 
he  said,  "  with  extra  wine  and  a  lot  of  grand 
things  to  eat." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  Baroness,  beaming 
from  her  end  of  the  table. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  echoed  the  Baron,  beaming 
back  on  her  and  radiating  his  delight  along 
the  line  of  'pensionnaires  each  side.  The 
eyes  of  Herr  Doktor  twinkled  as  he  looked 
across  at  me.  I  met  his  glance  with  a  half 
[59] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTIHTITITtTITITTIIfTTIIItlTIIIIimriTirirlllllllllllllTItTIIIIIITITTTTTTTTl 

smile.  Neither  of  us  meant  to  be  unkind. 
France  and  America  were  merely  united  in 
their  appreciation  of  the  humorous.  Frau 
von  Waldfel  raised  her  eyebrows  disagreea- 
bly, and  looked  as  though  about  to  start  a 
discussion.  To  mention  food  in  the  presence 
of  that  woman  is  like  brandishing  a  red  flag 
before  a  bull.  Luckily  Herr  Doktor  saw 
the  signs  of  approaching  storm,  and  with 
his  usual  diplomacy  turned  the  trend  of 
conversation,  so  that  an  argument  was 
averted  for  this  meal  at  least. 

Is  there  anything  more  pitiable  than  a 
number  of  guests,  hitherto  unknown  to  one 
another,  endeavoring  to  appear  at  ease  as 
they  wait  the  summons  to  dinner?  We 
had  thought  to  avoid  this  situation  by  not 
appearing  till  half  after  seven  that  evening, 
the  hour  set  for  the  supper  party.  Imagine, 
then,  our  feelings,  when  fifteen  minutes,  a 
half  hour,  three  quarters  dragged  by,  and 
no  vestige  of  life  from  the  dining-room ! 
Everything  moves  slowly  in  Germany,  and 
the  culinary  department  is  no  exception. 
The  Baroness  never  seemed  so  much  like  a 
[60] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTIITTT»tt»riII»HTITTITIIIIUITTTTTTIiriIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIIIIIIIIIITir»tTTITl 

beneficent  angel  as  when  she  opened  the 
dining-room  door  and  invited  us  to  the 
table.  And  now  a  light  shone  through 
the  clouds,  for  the  stupid  Count  with  whom 
I  had  been  struggling  to  converse  was 
whisked  away  to  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  and  Lieutenant  Linder,  a  young  man 
of  about  seven  and  twenty,  in  the  dark 
blue  and  scarlet  uniform  of  Bavaria,  took 
the  place  on  my  left. 

Oh,  these  officers !  They  simply  own 
Munich.  When  they  stride  along  the  street, 
the  entire  sidewalk  is  their  undisputed  pos- 
session. How  their  swords  clank,  how 
faultlessly  their  jackets  fit,  how  their  heaven- 
ward-pointing mustaches  curl !  A  few  of 
them  are  really  handsome,  but  if  not,  it 
doesn't  matter  in  the  slightest.  The  re- 
splendency of  their  uniforms  would  make 
one  forgive  almost  anything.  When  I 
became  accustomed  to  the  atmosphere 
of  conceit  in  which  Lieutenant  Linder 
was  enveloped,  I  found  him  distinctly 
entertaining,  and,  better  yet,  he  had  a 
sense  of  humor.  What  with  his  helping 
[61] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

me  with  my  German,  and  my  giving  him 
a  lesson  in  English,  we  managed  to  get  on 
famously. 

The  table  was  profusely  decorated  with 
flowers,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  to  eat 
and  more  to  drink.  The  idea  in  cooking 
seems  to  be  to  produce  a  color  effect.  For 
example,  we  had  as  one  course  well-browned 
sausage  surrounded  by  a  mass  of  bright  red 
carrots.  Next  came  the  eternal  veal,  reposing 
in  a  vivid  green  sea  of  spinach.  Do  your 
aesthetic  sensibilities  shrink  at  these  materi- 
alistic descriptions?  Remember  I  am  in 
a  materialistic  land,  amid  a  materialistic 
people.  Truly  the  problem  which  contin- 
ually confronts  me  is :  how  can  a  people 
who  seem  so  lethargic,  and  who  make  no 
disguise  of  their  love  for  the  product  of  the 
soil  and  the  grape,  produce  such  marvellous, 
almost  superhuman  results  in  the  fields  of 
music  and  philosophy  ? 

I  might  have  meditated  at  some  length  on 
this  question  during  the  Namens-Tag  sup- 
per, had  not  the  Lieutenant  kept  up  a  rapid 
conversation,  for  we  were  at  the  table  until 
[62] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

half-past  eleven.  Not  that  we  were  eating 
all  the  time,  but  the  waits  between  the 
courses  were  very  long,  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  dinner  we  had  a  pause  of  twenty  min- 
utes—  like  an  intermission  at  an  assembly 
—  when  the  Poet,  with  marked  nervousness, 
read  some  original  verses  "To  the  Baroness 
on  her  Name-Day. "  The  poor  woman  was 
even  more  embarrassed  than  he,  and  so 
moved,  when  at  the  close  we  all  rose  to 
drink  her  health,  that  two  large  tears  ran 
down  her  fat  cheeks. 

"  Hoch  soil  sic  lebenf"  cried  Herr  Doktor, 
clinking  his  glass  to  mine.  Every  one  had 
to  touch  his  glass  to  every  one  else's  or  it 
was  "  no  fair,"  and  of  course  we  all  walked 
up  to  the  Baroness  and  touched  hers. 

When  the  coffee  had  at  last  been  served, 
we  went  into  the  salon  carrying  away  with 
us  a  glass  of  Bowie,  or  punch,  which  is 
much  milder  than  anything  called  by  that 
name  in  America.  In  came  a  round  little 
man  who  took  his  place  at  the  piano,  and 
dancing  began. 

Lieutenant  Linder,  with  an  extremely 
[63] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

;;i;iiiniiiiTiTiiriiiiiiiiiiiia:iiiziiiiiiiiiiiiinniii:ii:iii:iiiiirxiTTiTi 

low  bow,  begged  gnadiges  Fraulein  to  give 
him  the  honor  of  the  first  waltz.  Gnadiges 
Fraulein  consented,  and  off  we  started. 
The  floor  was  excellent,  —  you  know  one 
finds  hardwood  floors  everywhere  here  in- 
stead of  carpets,  —  but  oh,  how  fast  these 
Germans  dance !  The  Lieutenant  swung 
me  round  and  round  in  a  small  circle,  pres- 
tissimo, until  I  begged  him  to  stop,  where- 
upon he  looked  very  much  surprised  and 
asked  me  if  I  had  heart  trouble.  I  assured 
him  that  such  was  not  the  case,  but  that 
we  were  not  accustomed  in  America  to 
whirl   about   like   tops. 

Waltzes  and  old-fashioned  polkas  fol- 
lowed in  rapid  succession.  I  can't  imagine 
how  Herr  Leutnant  ever  managed  to  do 
that  one-two-three-hop,  one-two-three-hop, 
without  falling  over  his  sword.  At  mid- 
night everybody,  including  Frau  von  Wald- 
fel,  danced  the  F?~anfaise,  which  is  much 
like  our  Virginia  Reel.  You  should  have 
seen  how  the  Baron  and  Baroness  enjoyed 
it,  and  how  astonishingly  light  they  were  on 
their  feet !  They  fairly  glowed  with  pleas - 
[64] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

ClIZIIXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIrilll^IIIIrtlTIllIHTIItTIIIIIItTTTTTI 

ure,  and  reminded  me  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fes- 
si  wig  at  the  Christmas  party. 

I  had  looked  forward  to  this  affair  with 
considerable  curiosity,  not  only  because  it 
was  to  be  my  first  glimpse  of  German  social 
life,  but  also  because  the  Baroness  had 
invited  Lieutenant  Blum,  the  fiance  of 
Fraulein  Hartmann.  I  must  confess,  how- 
ever, that  I  was  much  disappointed  in  him. 
He  is  short  and  dark,  with  a  heavy,  black 
mustache  which  he  constantly  caresses  with 
his  fat  little  hands.  Although  I  did  not 
exchange  a  word  with  him  the  whole  even- 
ing, except  the  formalities  of  an  introduc- 
tion, I  could  not  shake  off  the  impression 
that  he  was  of  much  coarser  fibre  than 
his  betrothed.  However,  he  paid  her  the 
most  devoted  attention  the  entire  evening, 
and  is,  apparently,  very  much  in  love. 

At  one  o'clock  Milttercken  and  I  ex- 
changed glances.  I  had  a  lesson  at  the 
Conservatory  the  next  morning  at  nine. 
But  at  the  first  hint  of  our  leaving,  the  Bar- 
oness looked  so  distressed  and  surprised  that 
we  were  afraid  we  had  been  very  rude  and 
[  C5  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

cii:iii:iii:iiiiiniiii:i:iiiiiiiiiiiiiz:iiiiiuiiiiiiiriiii:ix:x:i:imxm: 

determined  to  do  the  proper  thing.  The 
proper  thing  in  this  instance  meant  staying 
up  to  dance  till  half-past  four  in  the  morn- 
ing. Oh  !  how  sleepy  I  was  as  I  crept  into 
bed  and  thanked  my  stars  that  the  Naniens- 
Tagfete  was  over. 

Evening. 

By  this  time  I  am  beginning  to  feel  quite 
like  a  native.  My  surroundings  no  longer 
seem  strange.  I  am  growing  accustomed  to 
five  meals  a  day  and  the  language  sounds 
fairly  rational.  My  work  has  settled  into  a 
regular  routine.  The  entire  mornings  are 
devoted  to  study.  In  the  afternoons  come 
lessons.  Twice  a  week  I  have  a  private 
lesson  with  Thuille.  At  the  Conservatory 
I  am  studying  singing  with  Frau  Bianci  and 
piano  with  Fraulein  Fischer,  which  makes 
four  lessons  more.  The  piano  lessons  are  in  a 
class  with  two  other  girls,  and  not  as  formid- 
able as  you  might  suppose,  for  I  have  ex- 
plained to  Fraulein  Fischer  that  I  am  only 
including  piano  to  keep  from  forgetting  what 
I  already  know,  and  that  I  need  most  of  my 
[66] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


iTiTuririiTi 


[imtmnnniiriTm 


time  on  my  composition  lessons  with  Thuille. 
She  is  very  kind,  and  every  two  weeks  we 
are  to  read  duets  together.  This  makes  six 
lessons  a  week,  and  what  with  the  score- 
reading  class  and  the  chorus,  I  see  a  busy 
winter  before  me.  The  singing  and  piano 
lessons  are  given  in  a  large,  imposing  room. 
It  contains  two  grand  pianos  and  is  fur- 
nished in  red  velvet.  I  could  hardly  recon- 
cile this  with  my  ideas  of  a  Conservatory, 
but  Frau  Bianci  explained  that  the  building 
was  originally  used  for  something  quite  dif- 
ferent. Just  fancy  —  we  address  all  the 
teachers  by  titles  !  u  Herr  Professor  "  falls 
now  quite  trippingly  from  my  tongue,  and 
even  "  Frau  Professor,"  but  "  Fraulein  Pro- 
fessor "  is  a  little  too  much  for  me  as  yet ! 

I  will  acknowledge  that  I  felt  rather 
strange  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  score- 
reading  class,  when,  on  entering  the  room 
with  the  score  of  Haydn's  symphonies  under 
my  arm,  I  encountered  the  astonished  gaze 
of  thirty  pairs  of  masculine  eyes.  You 
could  have  heard  a  pin  drop,  the  place  was 
so  still,  as  I  walked  by  the  different  groups 
[61] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

and  took  a  seat  near  the  window.  Then  a 
low  whispering  started  among  the  students. 
Evidently  I  had  created  a  sensation.  A 
moment  later  the  big  door  opened  and 
Stavenhagen  came  in.  Every  one  rose,  or 
straightened  himself  up  at  once.  With  a 
nod  which  seemed  to  include  us  all,  the 
director  took  his  seat  by  the  piano  and  the 
lesson  began.  Each  one  was  called  on  to 
play  a  number  of  bars  written  in  four  dif- 
ferent clefs,  the  old  soprano,  the  tenor,  the 
alto,  and  the  bass  —  Stavenhagen  selecting 
a  new  choral  every  time.  It  was  not  till 
near  the  end  of  the  hour  that  he  called  my 
name.  Just  as  1  took  my  seat  before  the 
keyboard,  feeling  intensely  nervous  and 
fearing  lest  my  fingers  tremble  visibly,  I 
heard  one  of  the  men  smother  a  laugh. 
That  settled  it !  I  was  bound  to  do  or  die, 
and  with  a  calmness  quite  unnatural  I  played 
the  bars  set  before  me  without  a  mistake. 
Nobody  laughed  when  I  had  finished,  and 
now  that  the  first  shock  is  over,  the  students 
treat  me  with  the  utmost  courtesy.  Indeed, 
they  seem  to  have  accepted  me  as  inevitable, 
[68] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

although  occasionally  I  catch  one  of  them 
staring  at  me  with  an  expression  which  says 
as  plainly  as  words,  "  What  on  earth  does  a 
woman  want  of  score  reading  ?  " 

The  chorus  is  well  under  way.  To- 
day is  Thursday,  and  while  you  have  been 
singing  with  the  faithful  in  the  Cecilia  So- 
ciety I,  too,  have  been  at  a  rehearsal,  only  we 
call  it  a  Probe  here,  and  the  atmosphere  is 
somewhat  different  from  that  of  Pilgrim  Hall. 
The  Oberster  Chor  (which  means  the  upper 
chorus)  met  at  five  o'clock  to-day.  The 
room  where  we  sit  is  on  the  top  floor  and  at 
the  end  is  an  organ.  I  think  the  orchestra 
class  generally  practises  here.  The  air  is 
always  frightfully  close  and  hot,  for  there 
are  about  two  hundred  of  us  and  never  a 
window  open.  That  is  the  German  idea. 
What  a  splendid  thing  a  Fresh  Air  Fund 
would  be  over  here  ! 

The  piano  against  the  wall  is  on  a  raised 
platform  about  which  the  chorus  forms  a 
half  circle.  Professor  Becht,  one  of  the 
organ  teachers,  presides.  Such  a  time  as  he 
does  have  endeavoring  to  maintain  order  ! 
[69] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

ftTTiiniTTT».»iiiiiTT»imiiiiittiiiiMiriiiiiiiiiximri:in:iiiziiiiiiSD 

But  the  moment  we  begin  to  sing  —  ah ! 
that  is  a  different  matter.  Each  pupil  be- 
comes utterly  absorbed  in  the  notes  before 
him,  from  the  first  measure  to  the  last. 
Each  sings  as  though  he  loves  to  sing ;  yes, 
better  than  that,  as  though  he  actually  feels 
what  he  sings,  which  is  more  than  can  be 
said  of  many  vocalists  who  have  won  both 
fame  and  fortune.  There,  you  see,  is  an- 
other side  of  these  complex  Germans.  The 
love  of  music  is  their  birthright,  the  appre- 
ciation of  it  intuitive. 

How  I  wish  you  might  see  some  of  this 
queer  congregation!  The  masculine  ele- 
ment ranges  from  small  boys  to  bearded 
men.  The  girls  and  men  are  kept  strictly 
separate,  like  the  sheep  and  the  goats.  They 
enter  and  go  out  by  different  doors,  for  the 
building  is  divided  in  two  distinct  sections. 
The  sanctity  of  each  section  is  kept  as  in- 
violate as  a  Shaker  settlement. 

The  front  row  of  tenors  in   the   chorus 
amuses  me  exceedingly.     It  consists  of  boys 
who  wear  their  hair  pompadour  and  yell  out- 
rageously.    Did  you  ever  notice  the  effect 
[70] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTT,t„Ttt„i,ti1TTTtTit»niTTtTTiiiiiiiini:iiiiiTiii:ii:ixtiiiini»»o 

of  a  boy  with  pompadour  hair  opening  his 
mouth  very  wide?  It  is  truly  startling. 
The  basses  form  a  curious  vis-a-vis  for  these 
youthful  aspirants.  Their  age  is  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  thirty.  Obviously  to  be  a  bass 
singer  requires  both  dignity  and  experience. 
Most  of  them  think  it  also  requires  a  full 
beard.  Several  of  the  pupils  affect  the  artis- 
tic, or  are  dressed  after  the  old  masters,  with 
long  hair,  brown  corduroy  velvet  jackets,  and 
flowing  neckties.  There  is  one  I  have 
named  Rubenstein,  he  looks  so  much  like 
the  pictures  of  the  great  pianist.  And  the 
most  interesting  tenor-boy  I  call  Beethoven. 
He  wears  a  big  white  collar  into  which  he 
sinks  his  chin,  and  with  deep,  earnest  eyes 
under  closely  knit  brows  gazes  gravely  out 
on  a  frivolous  world. 

I  felt  very  much  like  the  proverbial  stray 
cat  as  I  entered  the  room  at  the  first  rehearsal, 
alone  and  silent  in  all  that  crowd  of  chatter- 
ing German  girls.  Not  knowing  where  to 
sit,  I  cast  an  anxious  look  around  and  caught 
the  friendly  glance  of  a  girl  in  the  second 
row.  She  beckoned  to  me  somewhat  shyly. 
[71] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

"  There  is  a  place  here,  if  you  care  for  it," 
she  said. 

Overjoyed  to  hear  my  mother  tongue,  I 
gladly  took  the  seat  beside  her,  and  we  were 
soon  chatting  in  the  unconventional  way 
known  to  strangers  who  meet  on  strange  soil. 
I  could  not  but  notice  with  what  a  high-bred 
manner  my  new  friend  carried  her  head. 
Her  hair,  black  and  curling,  is  coiled  in  a  low 
knot  at  the  back  of  the  whitest  of  necks,  for 
she  wears  her  blouses  cut  out  a  little  without 
a  collar,  as  is  the  strange  and  rather  chilling 
fashion  here.  I  was  struck,  too,  by  her 
jacket  of  black  velvet,  an  odd  school  dress, 
but  one  which  seems  to  suit  her  perfectly. 

"  You  are  English,  are  you  not  ? "  I  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  she,  her  blue  eyes  snap- 
ping as  much  as  blue  eyes  ever  can  snap. 
"I'm  Irish.      I  come  from  County  Cork." 

"  Oh  ! "  I  said,  drawing  a  long  breath,  as 
visions  of  the  representatives  County  Cork 
generally  sends  to  America  flashed  through 
my  mind. 

"  I  'm  taking  piano  as  my  Hauptsache 
'  [«] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

imt»HlttTtIITlTmTTTTmttIIITITTTIIIIIIIItH!TIIirttIITItTTTriHtTTtlm 

with  Krause,"  she  went  on.  "  You  know 
Stavenhagen  and  Krause  have  a  great  many 
foreign  pupils.  By  the  bye,"  she  continued, 
"  I  have  a  friend  myself  in  the  United  States. 
I  wonder  if  you  know  her  —  a  Miss  Curtis." 

"  Could  n't  you  tell  me  what  city  she  lives 
in  ? "  I  suggested.  "  I  know  several  people 
of  that  name." 

"  Then  I  'm  sure  you  know  her.  How 
delightful!"  she  replied,  radiant.  (I  made 
a  mental  note  of  the  fact  that  jumping  at 
conclusions  is  a  trait  not  confined  exclu- 
sively to  American  women.)  "  She  comes 
from  Los  Angeles." 

For  the  twentieth  time  since  my  arrival 
in  Munich  I  explained  the  relative  situation 
of  Boston  and  San  Francisco,  and  politely 
regretted  that  I  could  not  know  all  the 
music  students  as  far  as  the  Pacific  coast. 

I  was  surprised  at  first  to  see  how  much 
deference  is  paid  the  professors  here.  When- 
ever one  enters  the  room  we  all  immediately 
rise  and  do  not  sit  until  he  either  goes  out 
or,  by  a  gracious  wave  of  the  hand,  accords 
us  permission  to  resume  our  places.  In 
[73] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

ITT;niii»!niiiittMttiim"Hmi»"""i»"»»»"»»'»"»»»»ni 

spite  of  my  democratic  birth,  these  marks  of 
respect  impressed  me  as  extremely  fitting. 
About  every  two  weeks  comes  a  "  Vort rags- 
abend,"  an  evening  devoted  to  a  concert  by 
the  pupils.  Stavenhagen  has  a  large  orches- 
tra composed  of  the  students,  which  he  con- 
ducts himself.  We  are  marked,  too,  by 
some  occult  system  whereby  our  standing 
is  never  known  unless  we  "  flunk." 

Last  week  I  had  a  very  pleasant  chat 
with  Professor  Gluth.  He  is  a  well-known 
composer  here,  has  written  several  operas, 
and  teaches  at  the  school.  Margaret  Ruth- 
ven  Lang  had  been  kind  enough  to  give  me 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  him.  He  was 
her  teacher  when  she  was  in  Munich.  I 
have  been  trying  to  see  him  for  some  time, 
but  have  always  missed  him.  He  is  a 
splendid-looking  man,  very  large,  with  white 
hair,  and  his  manner  is  most  cordial.  He 
was  delighted  to  hear  of  Miss  Lang,  and  I 
was  proud  to  tell  him  of  her  success  in  the 
musical  world. 

We  have  been   to  the  opera  twice  since 
I   wrote,  once   to  hear  Die    Weisse   Dame 
[74] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

;iiixiin»iiiiTiiiiiiiiiriiiiiii:iiirTiiiiiTiriiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiin,TtTTTTT1 

and  the  second  to  hear  "  Fidelio."  I  am 
afraid  the  report  that  the  Prince  Regent 
was  to  be  there  had  more  to  do  with  our 
going  than  the  desire  to  hear  Die  Weisse 
Dame  itself,  although  it  is  a  pretty  opera 
in  its  way.  The  audience  was  very  splendid 
and  the  royal  box  brilliantly  lighted.  The 
most  expensive  places  are  in  the  first  balcony, 
and  here  we  saw  very  fine  costumes  and 
jewels.  At  ten  minutes  past  seven  —  the 
opera  as  a  rule  begins  at  seven —  the  or- 
chestra struck  up  "  God  save  the  King,"  and 
the  people  rose  en  masse  as  the  Prince,  ac- 
companied by  the  Crown  Princess  and 
several  members  of  the  royal  family,  entered 
the  box.  The  Regent  at  once  came  to  the 
front,  and  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  red 
velvet  railing,  bowed  repeatedly  to  right  and 
left.  He  is  of  medium  height,  with  white 
hair  and  flowing  white  beard.  His  eyes  are 
bright  and  kindly,  and  his  bearing,  while  most 
dignified,  is  utterly  without  ostentation.  It 
was  an  inspiring  sight,  —  the  five  balconies, 
the  floor,  and  the  boxes  all  alive  with  a  crowd 
of  enthusiastic  people,  who,  standing,  faced 
[«] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CTTTTTITTTTTITIIITTTTTIlIIirillTIIIIIITIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIXIXSIXX: 

this  man  who  served  them  as  king,  and  ap- 
plauded till  the  house  echoed  with  their  cries 
of  "Hoch  I  Hoch!" 

Although  "  Fidelio,"  which  we  heard  on 
Wednesday,   presented   no   such    gorgeous 
spectacle,  how  much  more  we  enjoyed  that 
evening  !     Morena  sang  the  title  role,  and 
I  feel  as  though  I  never  want  to  see  any  one 
else  in  the  part.     She  is  a  tall,  commanding 
woman  of  great  beauty,  and  the  masculine 
dress   of    Leonora   suits    her  marvellously. 
Her  voice  is  exquisite,  fresh,  and  true,  and 
her  acting  shows  great  intensity  of  power 
and  feeling.      Bosetti,  who,  you  remember, 
sang  so  delightfully  in  Hansel  und  Gretel 
made  a  charming  Marzelline.      When  the 
opera  was  over  Mutterchen  and  I  rose  to  go, 
but  to  our  surprise  saw  that  the  audience 
remained  seated.     As  we  took  our   places 
again,  Zumpe  raised  his  baton  and  the  first 
measures  of  that   divine  Leonore  overture 
number  three  rang  out.     I  have  never  heard 
anything  more  impressive,  coming  as  it  did 
to   form   a   finale   to   the   opera    itself.     It 
seemed   as  though    the  people  held   their 
[76] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tiii»TiTiiTiTT>ii!iimn!i?iTniii;;iT!iii;miimmnn;nmiinniirTn 

breath  during  the  performance  ;  not  a  rustle, 
not  a  movement  distracted  one  from  the 
glorious  music  of  the  orchestra.  At  the 
close  the  whole  house  broke  into  wild  ap- 
plause and  cries  for  "  Zumpe  !  Zumpe  !  " 

I  do  think  this  German  enthusiasm 
splendid.  We  talk  about  the  stolidity  of 
the  Teutonic  race,  but  I  have  never  yet  seen 
here  an  unresponsive  audience.  If  they 
do  not  like  a  thing  they  remain  silent.  It 
is  the  exception  to  hear  any  hissing,  although 
it  now  and  then  occurs.  If  they  do  like  a 
thing  they  applaud,  and  applaud  lustily. 
They  resemble  big,  impulsive  children,  and 
the  man  who  said  "  There  is  nothing  for 
preserving  the  body  like  having  no  heart " 
would  find  no  place  among  them.  That 
cherished  enormity  known  as  Modern 
Indifference,  by  so  many  of  us  regarded  as 
the  outward  sign  of  culture,  is,  in  Germany, 
thank  Heaven,  conspicuous  by  its  absence. 

November  28. 

Yesterday   was    Thanksgiving    Day.       I 
could  hardly  realize  that  you  were  feasting 
[77  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

at  home  on  turkey  and  cranberry  sauce 
amid  all  the  festivities  of  the  season.  The 
day  here  passed  as  usual  with  my  morning 
of  study  and  a  lesson  with  Thuille  in  the 
afternoon.  In  the  evening,  that  we  might 
not  forget  what  day  it  was,  the  American 
colony  had  a  dinner  and  dance  at  one  of 
the  large  hotels.  I  had  no  idea  before  that 
there  were  so  many  Americans  in  Munich. 

Colonel  W said  there  must  be  about 

four  hundred  in  all,  and  fully  two  hundred 
and  fifty  came  to  the  dinner.  The  rooms 
were  lavishly  decorated  with  American  flags 
and  flowers,  as  were  also  the  tables.  And 
oh !  how  pleasant  was  the  sound  of  English 
on  every  side.  The  consul's  wife  and  the 
rector's  wife  received  the  guests  under  a  red, 
white,  and  blue  bower,  and  at  seven  o'clock 
we  all  went  into  the  dining-room  to  the 
strains  of  the  "  Star  Spangled  Banner." 
The  rector  asked  grace  and  then  came  the 
dinner.  That,  dear  Cecy,  I  must  confess, 
was  but  a  farce  when  compared  to  the 
genuine  creation,  in  spite  of  the  American 
flag  on  the  menu  and  the  assurance  that 
[78] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

:ilIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIlIllllllIllllllliixiiiiiiiiTiiiTiiiirTi;;i;it;nirTTTiT-! 

these  were  American  turkeys  especially 
imported  for  the  occasion.  The  cranberry 
sauce,  too,  would,  I  believe,  have  been  passed 
by  unrecognized  on  the  other  side,  but  any- 
thing was  preferable  to  dining  on  veal  and 
beer  on  Thanksgiving  Day.  After  the 
dinner  came  dancing  —  it  had  been  thought 
best  to  have  no  speeches  —  and  it  did  seem 
delightful  to  trip  it  in  a  sane  way  once  more. 
The  whole  affair  was  decidedly  successful, 
and  made  us  realize  that  Thanksgiving  was 
a  real  institution  even  if  we  were  on  German 
soil. 

I  must  tell  you  how  charming  all  the 
people  here  made  my  birthday,  which  came 
this  week.  In  the  morning  Miltterchen 
presented  me  with  some  lovely  gifts  tied 
with  a  red,  white,  and  blue  ribbon.  To  our 
surprise,  about  ten  o  'clock  came  a  knock  on 
my  door,  and  in  walked  Karl  bearing  a  huge 
cake  on  a  tray,  the  Baron  and  Baroness 
following.  They  were  all  three  beaming 
with  delight,  and  each  shook  my  hand  a 
dozen  times  in  their  cordial  way,  wishing 
me  all  sorts  of  good  things.  The  cake  had 
[79] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

riiniiix»»»nniiiiiiiiiiiiimxxxx«iziiiiiiixiiiiiiiiiniiixiiiiixiiixzm 

been  ordered  and  made  at  the  pastry  cook's 
especially  for  me.  It  was  round  and  bore 
across  the  top,  in  letters  of  marvellous  white 
frosting  script,  "  Herzlkhen  Gruss"  (Hearty 
Greeting). 

"  That  must  have  the  place  of  honor,"  I 
cried,  much  moved  by  their  friendliness,  as 
I  swept  the  books  off  the  table.  "It  is 
truly  a  wonderful  cake." 

Hardly  had  they  gone  when  a  second 
knock  sounded,  and  in  response  to  my 
"Herein!"  in  came  the  servants  in  a  row, 
headed  by  Georg,  the  butler.  Twisting  the 
buttons  of  his  livery,  he  made  a  little  speech 
very  fast,  all  of  which  I  could  not  understand, 
but  the  burden  of  it  was  a  wish  that  the 
lieber  Gott  would  keep  gnadiges  Frdulein 
in  health  and  happiness  all  her  days.  Then 
he  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand.  The 
maids  followed,  each  wishing  me  good 
fortune  in  some  pretty  couplet,  and  with 
a  quaint  little  courtesy  also  shaking  my 
hand.  It  was  all  done  with  such  delightful 
simplicity  that  I  can  never  forget  it. 

But  this  was  not  all  the  kindness  I  re- 
[80] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iniirxmxmirxiiumxrziiiniiinixzxiiiiiiimiii minium  i  !TTmrTT] 

ceived,  for  when  we  went  out  to  dinner, 
there  on  my  plate  was  a  beautiful  basket  of 
white  roses  from  my  "  friends  in  the  pension" 
I  did  not  know  what  to  say  in  my  sur- 
prise, so  I  only  exclaimed  Danke  Taus- 
endmal  (a  thousand  thanks),  and  sat  down 
quickly,  lest  I  should  cry  or  do  some  equally 
foolish  thing. 

Just  as  we  were  leaving  the  room  after 
dinner  Frau  von  Waldfel  came  up  to  me, 
her  niece  by  her  side. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,  my  dear,  that  T  sent 
to  Nuremberg  for  some  Lebkuchen  in  honor 
of  your  birthday,"  she  said.  "  You  will  find 
the  package  in  your  room.  They  tried  to 
persuade  me  in  the  shops,"  she  added,  low- 
ering her  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  that  the 
Lebkuchen  they  sell  here  are  as  good  as  the 
genuine  article,  but  I  know  better,  and  these 
are  the  real  Nuremberg  ones,  famous  the 
world  over." 

I  thanked  her  heartily  for  her  thoughtful- 
ness,  assuring  her  that  I  had  often  read  of 
them  in  my  fairy-tale  books.  Then  they 
both  shook  hands  and  Fraulein  Hartmann, 

6  [81  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

;iimiii;m;iiriii;Tmi»m;iini;TimiimimiiiirTimiiiiimimni 

blushing    slightly,   leaned   over   and   kissed 
me. 

"  It  is  the  custom,"  she  said  shyly,  "  and 
perhaps  you  will  miss  your  American  friends 
less  on  this  day  if  you  realize  you  have  made 
new  ones  here."     Wasn't  it  sweet  of  her  ? 

In  the  evening  we  celebrated  by  going  to 
the  Popular es  Konzert  —  the  Baron  and 
Baroness,  Herr  Doktor,  Lieutenant  Linder, 
Mutter 'cJien,  and  myself.  It  was  held  in  the 
Kaim  Saal,  where  the  Weingartner  concerts 
are  given,  and  rendered  by  the  same  orchestra 
under  the  leadership  of  Scharrer.  In  place 
of  the  rows  of  seats  were  substituted  tables 
as  at  our  "  Pops  "  at  home.  The  hall  was 
extremely  crowded  when  we  entered  and  we 
did  not  at  first  obtain  a  table  where  we 
could  sit  together.  Mutterchen  and  I  took 
places  at  one  in  the  rear,  and  I  noticed  after 
we  had  been  seated  a  few  moments  the 
disagreeable  expression  on  the  faces  of  the 
strangers  at  the  table.  In  fact,  two  of  them 
looked  seriously  offended  and  made  some 
remark  to  each  other,  sotto  voce,  with  a 
glance  towards  us.  In  bewilderment  I 
[82] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

wondered  what  could  have  destroyed  their 
equanimity,  for  they  seemed  placid  enough 
when  we  first  came  in.  Suddenly  it  flashed 
across  me. 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  I  whispered  to 
Miittcrchen,  "Edith  told  us  the  other  day 
it  was  the  custom  to  bow  to  those  sitting  at 
table  whenever  we  took  a  seat  with  them  ? 
We  didn't  do  it,  hence  this  atmosphere  of 
ungracious  toleration." 

M'uttcrchcn  looked  alarmed,  but  just  then 
the  lieutenant  came  up  to  take  us  to  a  table 
large  enough  for  our  whole  party,  and  we 
soothed  the  wounded  feelings  of  those  we 
had  so  unconsciously  offended  by  bestowing 
the  most  cordial  of  bows  as  we  went  away. 

This  was  not,  however,  our  only  unhappy 
experience,  born  of  ignorance  and  American 
training,  on  that  evening.  It  chanced,  when 
we  reached  home  after  the  concert,  that  the 
lieutenant  turned  to  M utter chen  first  to  say 
good  night. 

"  A  most  enjoyable  evening,  gnadigc 
Frau"  he  said,  bending  low  over  her  hand. 
That  he  was  to  kiss  it  she  had  not  the  slight- 
I  W  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTT>tI>tTTT«»»»lll.m«»»«lllT»T»tn»ltIIIIllIlllITIIIIIXIIlIII»IIXIXm*x^u 

est  premonition.     In  point  of  fact  he  did  n't, 
but   he   tried   to,   while    Mutterchen   inno- 
cently raised  her  hand  at  the  critical  moment 
and  gave  him  a  fearful  rap  under  the  nose. 
His  glasses  flew   off  with  a  crash,  and  he 
flushed  very  red,  more  from  the  blow  than 
embarrassment.     It  takes   a   great   deal   to 
embarrass  a   German    officer.      While    he 
groped  about  on  the  floor  in  search  of  his 
glasses,  Mutterchen  stammered  forth  a  flood 
of  apologies  in  the  best  German  the  Berlitz 
School   affords.     We   were  indeed  relieved 
when  he  recovered  the  glasses  intact,  and  a 
hearty  laugh  banished  our  distress,  for  the 
Germans  like  a  joke  —  provided  it  is  not  too 
subtle  —  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us. 

Wagner's  Ring  of  the  Nibelungen  is  to 
be  given  in  two  weeks,  and  we  purchased  our 
seats  to-day.  I  am  all  enthusiasm  to  hear  it 
and  am  reading  the  poems.  I  have  a  splen- 
did little  book  which  has  the  leading  motifs 
written  out  at  the  back  and  in  the  margins 
of  the  pages  a  statement  of  just  what  motif 
occurs  at  certain  lines.  It  sounds  complex, 
—  doesn't  it?  —  but  is  most  interesting. 
[84] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxzxxxxxxxxixxxixxxxxxxxir] 

Wish  me  joy,  and  in  the  meantime  believe 
me,  as  always, 

M. 

P.  S.  Fraulein  Hartmann  is  not  happy. 
I  am  convinced  of  it.  To  be  sure,  I  never 
see  her  except  at  table,  for  her  aunt  keeps 
her  always  closely  by  her  side.  But  to-day 
I  passed  the  girl  in  the  hall,  and  her  eyes 
were  swollen  from  crying.  She  looked  so 
sad  that  I  stopped  and  asked  her  if  I  could 
not  do  something  for  her.  For  a  moment 
she  looked  at  me  hesitatingly  and  seemed 
about  to  speak,  wThen  in  walked  her  unbear- 
able aunt. 

"  My  niece  has  a  frightful  headache,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  and  bed  is  the  best  place  for 
her." 

I  feel  sure  that  odious  lieutenant  has  been 
doing  or  not  doing  something  that  disturbs 
her.  I  am  constantly  meeting  him  on  the 
stairs.  He  comes  in  every  day  to  drink 
afternoon  coffee  and  is  usually  sauntering 
down  just  as  I  come  in  from  the  chorus  hour 
at  the  Conservatory.  When  he  sees  me  he 
bows  very  low,  and,  with  a  twist  of  his  tire- 
[85] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTtttt»ii^»»iiiiiirTTttTi»iiTT»t»»iiiiTiTiiiiinii:riiiixxiiiininxiin 

some  mustache  and  a  glance  which  he 
imagines  is  impressive,  hopes  "  sehr  geehrtes 
Fraulein  is  in  good  health." 

If  it  weren't  for  his  stunning  uniform  I 
don't  believe  the  pretty  Fraulein  would  look 
at  him  twice  ! 


[86] 


f;iIIIIHrimiIi:i:iIIlIIIIIIIIIIIItIITITyi:lII»ITITTITTIItTTTTTITITITITTTn 

B  ~~~~  1 

rxnTiim»iii»»»mitmiiiirnnnnriirmrTiTn!!i!iii!i!iiiTi!iii»ti 


Munich,  December  8. 
Dear  Cecilia  :  — 

^TTyHE  WIND    IS    SHRIEKING 

m  in  great  gusts,  which  begin  piano, 
Jl  crescendo  to  fortissimo,  and  then  die 
away  in  weird,  unearthly  echoes,  while  the 
rain  keeps  up  a  continuous  counterpoint  to 
this  minor  music  in  sharp  staccato  against 
the  window  panes.  The  mist  is  so  thick 
that  the  obelisk  at  the  end  of  Max-Joseph- 
strasse  looks  like  a  mere  shadow.  It  is  now 
five  o'clock  and  I  have  "  shut  up  shop,"  as 
it  were,  to  talk  with  you,  for  my  lesson  for 
to-morrow,  a  fugue  in  C  minor,  is  finished. 
It  occurred  to  me,  as  I  was  writing  it,  how 
curiously  a  fugue  subject  resembles  certain 
clever  and  unscrupulous  people.  Both  are 
thoroughly  adaptable,  both  are  capable  of 
saying  the  direct  opposite  of  what  they 
have  previously  boldly  stated,  both  are 
difficult  to  deal  with  and  can  only  be 
managed  successfully  by  employing  the 
greatest  finesse. 

[89] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTTHTIHtlltTIIHtMimilTttTIItllHTTttMIITIItTtlllTIIIimiirmilllim 

Tuesday. 

I  was  interrupted  in  my  letter  of  yester- 
day by  Frau  von  Waldfel  and  her  niece,  who 
came  to  call.  Of  course  that  meant  a  cup  of 
coffee.  When  they  left  I  had  to  hurry  down 
to  the  school  for  a  lesson,  so  writing  was  out 
of  the  question.  By  the  bye,  I  am  afraid  I 
may  have  excited  your  sympathies  unduly  in 
favor  of  Fraulein  Hartmann,  for  ever  since 
that  day  I  wrote  you,  when  I  met  her  cry- 
ing in  the  hall,  she  has  appeared  most  cheer- 
ful. Yesterday  she  was  in  unusual  spirits, 
although  to  tell  the  truth  her  gayety  struck 
me  as  somewhat  forced.  It  was  as  if  she 
were  endeavoring  to  overcome  the  impres- 
sion which  her  tears  must  have  given  me. 

After  my  lesson  with  Thuille  yesterday  I 
stopped  in  at  Miss  Pollard's.  She  is  a  piano 
student  with  whom  I  have  become  ac- 
quainted, and  goes  by  the  nickname  of 
Polly.  I  found  her  sitting  on  a  very  low 
stool  before  the  piano  and  resting  her  fingers 
on  the  keys,  for  all  the  world  like  a  child  too 
little  to  reach  up  to  play. 
[  90  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[iniMiiniiiiiiiiiimniiiiiiiiimumtniiMM mm -~rrrm 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  I  said. 

"  I  'm  practising,"  she  said,  with  crushing 
dignity.  Then,  throwing  me  a  supercilious 
glance,  "  This  is  an  exercise  especially  rec- 
ommended by  Lescheticsky." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I  meekly,  inwardly  wonder- 
ing if  there  are  any  more  sensitive  creatures 
on  earth  than  we  music  students.  How  en- 
thusiastically we  rave  over  our  "  method  "  ! 
How  more  than  ready  we  are  to  challenge 
man,  woman,  or  child  who  breathes  a  doubt 
of  its  infallibility !  And  oh  !  with  what 
majestic  disdain  we  utterly  ignore  the  very 
existence  of  any  other  !  Realizing  all  this, 
I  judged  it  wiser  to  change  the  subject  by 
asking  quickly,  — 

"  Are  the  girls  coming  to-day  ?  " 

No  sooner  had  I  spoken  than  in  came  the 
two  New  York  girls  of  whom  I  wrote  as 
calling  on  me  when  I  first  arrived.  We  have 
become  firm  friends  by  this  time.  Over  a  cup 
of  tea  we  four  discussed  the  last  Weingart- 
ner  concert,  and  more  especially  Alexander 
Petschnikof.  (I  can  never  pronounce  his 
name  without  wanting  to  sneeze.)  He 
[91] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

n»»iimtm»»!»i!mimiiiimimiimmtiTiiTtn!iiTTtMtmT'rtTT1 

had  played  the  Mozart  Concerto  and  Bach's 
Chiaconna  most  acceptably,  to  judge  from  his 
reception.  Since  none  of  us  were  violinists 
we  felt  free  to  discuss  his  style  and  phras- 
ing with  all  that  intolerance  which  people 
are  wont  to  employ  when  criticising  things 
of  which  they  themselves  are  ignorant. 

Just  as  we  were  putting  on  our  wraps 
Polly  made  a  confession. 

"Well,  girls,  I'll  have  to  tell  you  the 
truth,"  she  said.  "  I  've  been  complained 
of  to  the  police." 

44  Again  ? "  said  Louise,  in  a  startled 
whisper. 

"  Again  ? "  Edith  and  I  echoed,  aghast. 

44 And  who  is  it  this  time?"  demanded 
Edith.  She  has  a  way  of  recovering  and 
getting  at  the  root  of  things  before  any 
one  else.  She  did  not  ask  why.  We  all 
knew  that  there  could  be  but  one  reason. 
Polly,  usually  the  essence  of  demureness, 
turned  and  looked  at  us  with  hard,  angry 
eyes. 

44  It 's  the  Poet  downstairs,"  she  explained. 
44  He  says  I  'm  ruining  his  inspirations  by 
[92] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTTTTt»t»»TTtTTTT»tTITlHinHtMI»ritIHniIIIIIIIIItIt»ilHmTfTTTTTT1 

my  barbaric  pounding.  Fancy  that  reach- 
ing Lescheticsky's  ears  !  He  says  I  'm  *  at 
it'  all  day!" 

"  Outrageous  ! "  cried  Louise. 

"  Preposterous  !  "  avowed  Edith. 

They  were  both  following  the  laws  of 
Lescheticsky. 

"  I  'm  so  sorry,"  said  I  more  mildly,  for 
somehow  I  could  not  help  but  see  a  picture 
of  the  distressed  poet,  pacing  the  floor,  and 
beating  his  brow  as  he  vainly  sought  for  a 
brilliant  thought,  while  from  above  came 
the  unceasing,  monotonous,  nerve-destroy- 
ing sound  of  a  Czerny  exercise  repeated 
over  and  over. 

"  It 's  not  the  moving  I  mind,"  continued 
Polly,  "  I  'm  quite  an  adept  at  that,  having 
lived  in  three  pensions  since  my  arrival  last 
August."  Here  she  smiled  bitterly.  "  But 
at  one  thing  I  do  rebel,  and  that  is  at  hav- 
ing to  pay  thirty  marks  for  a  damper  for 
my  piano,  which  I  ordered  from  Berlin  in 
the  hope  of  appeasing  him  when  he  com- 
plained a  week  ago!" 

It  was,  indeed,  an  unhappy  situation.  We 
[98] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

-, urn iiFTTt»niiiiiTiTiiiiiii»Tiiiiiiiiiirxrmn 

all  knew,  too,  that  those  thirty  marks  meant 
a  good  deal  to  Polly. 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  will  come  out  all 
right,"  said  Louise  consolingly. 

"I  consider  it  an  absolutely  absurd  pro- 
ceeding ! "  said  Edith  emphatically,  as  she 
stamped  out  into  the  hall. 

"You  might  come  down  and  talk  with 
the  Poet's  Wife  at  our  pension"  I  suggested. 
We  always  said  "the  Poet's  Wife,"  since 
we  had  long  ago  given  up  her  five-syllable 
name  as  hopeless.  "  I  'm  sure  she  would  be 
able  to  help  you." 

You  see  Polly  lives  alone.  We  three 
discussed  the  matter  as  we  walked  down  the 
Ludwig-strasse,  the  girls  leaving  me  at  the 
Conservatory,  where  I  had  a  piano  lesson  at 
five. 

And  now  I  must  stop,  for  it  is  time  to 
dress  for  the  opera.  To  think  of  hearing 
the  "  Rheingold  "  at  last ! 

Saturday. 

I  have  heard  the  "  Rheingold  "  and  "  The 
Valkyrie,"  and  can  hardly  wait   for  "  Sieg- 
[94] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

t:i:i:i:iiin;i:i:iii:iii:x:iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiixnni;niiiIIITrtlnntTTTrrTri 

fried"  to-morrow  night.  Every  seat  in  the 
Hof-Theatre  was  occupied,  and  an  immense 
crowd  stood  downstairs.  The  price  of  seats, 
increased  three  marks,  seemed  to  make  no 
difference  in  the  attendance.  Polly  and 
two  of  her  friends  were  too  late  to  obtain 
any  desirable  places,  so  they  clubbed  together 
and  engaged  a  Dienstmann  to  get  their  seats 
for  them.  One  finds  a  Dienstmann  at  every 
turning  here.  They  are  forlorn,  sad-eyed 
creatures,  in  short,  frayed  jackets  and  red 
caps,  who  linger  on  street  corners  gazing 
abstractedly  into  space  with  their  hands  in 
their  pockets.  For  a  small  sum  they  will 
run  from  one  end  of  Munich  to  the  other, 
or,  if  need  be,  will  stand  in  line  for  tickets 
from  four  in  the  morning  on.  Polly  has  a 
favorite  old  Dienstmann  called  Friedrich. 
Accordingly,  Friedrich  was  summoned  to 
the  rescue  and  stood  the  entire  night  with 
hundreds  of  others  on  the  chilly  stones  of 
Max-Joseph-Platz  in  order  to  get  seats. 
There  is  a  rule  that  not  more  than  three 
tickets  can  be  sold  to  one  of  these  men. 
The  places  in  the  gallery  cost  two  marks 
[95]  * 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTTTTTtTTtTT»»itiiiii»Ti!iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirm:iiiiiiiiiu:iiiii:inn 

(fifty  cents)  and  the  Dienstmann  demands, 
for  standing  all  night,  generally  four  marks. 
It  is  divided  among  the  trio,  so  they  get 
their  places  for  about  eighty  cents.  This 
price  is  the  exception,  however ;  ordinarily 
one  pays  but  thirty-five  cents  for  a  seat  at 
this  altitude. 

When  it  comes  to  sitting  in  the  balcony 
or  orchestra  one  finds  that  the  fabulous 
stories  which  one  hears  in  America  about 
the  cheapness  of  opera  are  grossly  exag- 
gerated. 

"Why,  opera  costs  nothing  over  there  !  " 
you  hear.     "  One  can  go  for  a  song  !  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  seats  in  the  first 
balcony  generally  cost  two  dollars,  an  orches- 
tra seat  a  dollar  and  a  half,  and  very  often 
these  prices  are  considerably  increased. 

Is  there  anything  more  exquisite  than  the 
first  act  of  the  "  Rheingold,"  more  bewitch- 
ing than  those  elusive  daughters  of  the 
Rhine,  more  perfect  than  the  enchantment  of 
those  rippling  chords  ?  The  whole  scene  is 
a  flawless  poem.  When  it  came  to  the 
second  act,  however,  my  indomitable  sense 
[96] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

^UlXlHAUllllllllTITTUlllllM.M.trillii,,. Tl- 1 1  i  .  i  ,,,,.,  T  rTTTTTT] 

of  humor  rose   to   the  surface.     You  have 
heard  that  old  adage,  have  n't  you,  "  Laugh 
and  the  world  laughs  with  you,  weep  and 
you  weep  alone  "  ?     I  have  proven  satisfac- 
torily that  the  first  part  is  a  fallacy  pure  and 
simple— at   least   in  Germany.     Was  I  at 
fault  because  when  I  first  heard  the  giant 
motif  I  smiled?     Am  I  to  be  condemned 
because  I  had   to   smother   a   laugh   when 
Mimi  rolled  over  and  over  on  the  stage,  and 
shrieked  forth  a  ridiculous  "  Augh  !  "  as  in 
a  fit  of  indigestion  ?     And  the  giants  were 
such  wild-looking  creatures  with  grotesque 
tufts  of  hair  on  the  crown  of  their  heads  — 
should  I  have  taken  them  more  seriously? 
Apparently,  if  I  am  to  judge  from  the  de- 
meanor of  the  audience,  who  never  changed 
their   expression   during   the    entire    opera. 
And,  after  all,  there  are  a  good  many  people 
at   home   who  think  to   regard  one  bar  of 
Wagner   without   reverential   seriousness  is 
sacrilege.     Yet  "  to  thine  own  self  be  true," 
Cecilia,  and  so  I  make  no  defence.     What 
need  when  I  am  writing  to  one  who  Under- 
stands ? 


7 


[97] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


.imiiiirxxzxxxa 


gnnanaaaan 


The  spring  motif  of  "  The  Valkyrie "  is 
the  incarnation  of  tenderness  and  eternal 
freshness,  and  the  climax  of  the  whole  opera 
seems  to  me  simply  colossal.  Briinnhilde, 
sung  by  Senger-Bettaque,  was  convincing 
and  forceful.  Her  supposedly  fiery  steed,  a 
raw-boned  black  creature  who  looked  suffi- 
ciently mild  for  children  to  drive,  was  reluc- 
tantly dragged  in,  licking  sugar  in  a  most 
obvious  fashion  from  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  Even  a  sturdy  and  belligerent 
Briinnhilde,  it  seems,  must  at  times  yield  to 
puerile  means  in  order  to  gain  her  point. 
Later  the  war-maiden  was  seen  scudding 
through  the  sky  on  a  snow-white  charger,  so 
I  judged  she  must  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  exchange  her  apathetic  beast 
during  the  course  of  the  opera.  Fricka  was 
sung  by  Fraulein  Fremstad,  whose  Carmen, 
I  hear,  has  made  quite  a  furore.  The  whole 
thing  was  splendidly  given,  and  in  the  last  act 
I  gleaned  considerable  knowledge  about  the 
bass  tuba  which  comes  in  here  so  often,  just 
as  in  the  "  Rheingold  "  I  marked  the  growl- 
ing themes  for  'cello  and  double  basses. 
[98] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXItlTIIIIlIIIITITtTlIlimTTTHTTTTT-) 

Monday. 

Well,  it 's  all  over,  that  wonderful  Ring  ! 
"  Siegfried  "  came  on  Thursday,  and  Knote, 
whom  I  had  previously  heard  as  Tristan, 
sang  the  title  role.  At  the  end  of  the  first 
act  the  audience  fairly  went  wild  with  en- 
thusiasm. Oh,  that  wonderful  bit  of  orches- 
tration where  Mimi  speaks  of  fear!  And 
that  perfect  effect  of  the  bird- voice  in  the 
Wialdweben,  singing  in  the  clarinet  above 
the  strings,  while  the  horn  note,  pianissimo, 
gives  that  poignant  touch  of  color  which 
only  the  brain  of  a  master  could  conceive. 

The  dragon,  which  Herr  Martens  tells  me 
is  generally  a  small  affair,  was  horrible  and 
immense  enough  for  any  one.  I  positively 
trembled  when  he  poured  forth  clouds  of 
steam  from  his  gaping  jaws,  and  disclosed  a 
throat  of  red  fire.  The  bass  tuba  makes  a 
grand  worm.  I  never  realized  what  it  was 
to  hear  a  worm  crawl  before.  But  in  spite 
of  the  wonders  of  the  work,  I  wish  it  were 
shorter.  My  head  was  frightfully  tired  en- 
deavoring to  follow  the  countless  inter- 
199] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTITTTIIIIIIirilXIXXXXXtllXXXXXXXXXIXIIITIttimilXIIHTTTTTTTT-l 

woven  themes.  But  then,  this  is  my  first 
hearing  of  it  all,  and  perhaps  another  time 
I  might  change  my  opinion. 

What  a  stupendous  climax  Gotterdam- 
merung  is  to  the  whole  Ring !  The  prel- 
ude is  perfect,  and  I  can  imagine  no  more 
dramatic  moment  than  that  when  Siegfried 
drinks  to  Briinnhilde  in  the  fatal  draught. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  grandeur  of  the 
music  at  the  breaking  of  day,  before  the  en- 
trance of  the  hero,  and  the  stirring  sound 
of  those  eight  horns ;  nor  will  that  last 
grand  picture  of  Valhalla  fade  from  my 
mind   for   many   moons. 

It  seemed  as  though  half  the  American 
colony  had  turned  out  for  the  Ring,  for  we 
continually  met  people  we  knew  at  the  in- 
termissions. There  is  always  a  pause  of 
twenty  minutes  at  some  time  between  the 
acts.  Why,  you  inquire  ?  My  dear  Cecilia, 
a  German  would  never  think  of  existing 
two  hours  without  refreshment,  much  less 
four  ;  consequently  there  is  n't  a  theatre  or 
opera  house  in  all  Germany  which  does  not 
contain  a  restaurant.  To  be  sure,  it  is 
[100] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

■TTTiTiiiTTiiTiiiiriiiiirTiiiiiiilliixiiixixixxiixiiixiiiiixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin 

rather  a  come-down  to  discover  Professor 
B ,  whom  you  saw  a  moment  ago  en- 
thralled by  the  strains  of  the  Waldweben, 
now  prosaically  munching  a  ham-sandwich 
and  drinking  beer  in  a  corner  of  the  cafe,  as 
though  his  soul  had  never  been  stirred  be- 
yond the  excitement  of  choosing  what  he 
should  order  for  dinner.  But  that  is  the 
German  temperament,  and  one  soon  gets 
used  to  it. 

There  is  the  "  Siegfried  "  bird-call  running 
through  my  head  again  !  Is  it  that  which 
the  fountain  —  my  fountain,  as  I  claim  it 
now  —  sang  to  me  as  I  passed  to-day  ?  Or 
did  I  myself  unconsciously  hum  the  melody 
and  hear  in  the  ripple  of  the  falling  water 
the  soft  rhythm  of  accompanying  'cellos  and 
violins  ? 

Decent  her  15. 

Christmas  is  in  the  air,  and  every  street- 
corner  has  bloomed  into  a  miniature  forest 
of  trees.  These  are  fastened  in  squares  of 
wood,  and  stand  up  straight  and  proud.  As 
a  rule  some  strange,  bent  old  woman  pre- 
[101] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

nrnmani iiiiiMTnminiriiiii:nni:»iii::niinzxiimi:x«n 

sides  over  them,  and  out  of  curiosity  to-day 
I  stopped  in  Odeons-Platz  and  inquired  the 
price  of  a  particularly  plump  little  tree. 

"  One  mark  fifty  "  (thirty-seven  and  a  half 
cents),  quavered  the  dame,  "  but  they  run  up 
as  high  as  fifteen  marks." 

The  poor  soul  looked  so  disappointed  as 
I,  after  thanking  her,  turned  away,  that  I 
simply  could  not  resist  going  back  —  least  of 
all  at  Christmas  time.  There  was  nothing 
to  buy  but  trees,  so  I  picked  out  the  plump 
little  one  which  had  first  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. She  was  delighted  and  beamed  at  me 
as  I  started  off  with  it  dragging  behind  me 
from  under  my  arm,  for  my  hands  were  full 
of  music  books.  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
what  to  do  with  my  new  possession.  I  had 
just  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  it  at  some 
one's  door,  when  who  should  come  trudging 
along  through  the  snow  but  the  Hausmeis- 
ter's  little  boy.  He  was  on  his  way  home 
from  school,  with  his  books  strapped  to  his 
back  in  one  of  these  curious  black  knapsacks 
which  all  the  school  children  carry.  I  thrust 
the  tree  into  his  arms,  with  the  assurance 
[102] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

,.,i i!  11/ ininitiiuuiiTiiiiiiMiwMimiiiiimmu 

that  it  was  for  him,  and  left  him,  wholly  be- 
wildered, hugging  it  tightly  to  his  breast. 

When  I  reached  the  corner  I  turned  to 
see  him  still  standing  there  and  gazing  after 
me  from  between  the  branches  with  an  ex- 
pression of  astonishment  and  delight.  I 
waved  my  hand,  and  at  last  he  moved  and 
gave  a  sign  with  his  red  mitten.  Then  he 
turned  and  ran  towards  home  as  fast  as  his 
fat  legs  could  carry  him. 

The  shops,  with  one  exception,  are  not 
nearly  as  finely  decorated  as  ours  at  home. 
This  exception  is  the  sausage-store,  which  is 
a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever.  To  be 
frank,  a  sausage  had  never  impressed  me  as 
a  particularly  artistic  creation,  nor  had  I 
been  wont  to  regard  it  as  a  species  of  deco- 
ration until  Germany  unfolded  to  me  its 
many  possibilities.  Could  you  but  see  one 
of  these  windows,  hung  with  long  ropes,  the 
links  of  which  are  large  Frankfurters  joined 
together  by  a  band  of  green,  you  would 
not  fail,  1  am  sure,  to  admire  the  intricacy 
of  the  designs  and  the  striking  originality 
with  which  the  small  sausages  are  inter- 
[103  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

»l::iITIIIH:SIIIIIIIIIIIITIIItIIIT»TIHTITTTTTTIIIIHTTTTHIIHITTTIITtTTTT 

spersed  with  the  larger  ones  so  as  to  produce 
the  most  surprising  effects  !  Who  ever  as- 
sociated sausages  with  anything  so  idyllic  as 
a  waterfall  ?  Yet  here  you  have  a  wooden 
mill,  high  up  on  an  improvised  hill,  and  over 
the  wheel  flow  down  streamers  of  sausages 
to  mass  in  a  lake  below.  Who  ever  thought 
of  connecting  them  with  the  legends  of  the 
Middle  Ages  ?  Yet  Herr  Schmidt,  at  the 
corner,  has  constructed  the  most  marvel- 
lous tower  out  of  sausages  laid  crisscross, 
with  openings  for  little  windows,  with  a 
turret  on  the  very  top,  with  a  flag  wav- 
ing proudly  on  the  highest  peak,  and  most 
wonderful  of  all,  with  a  drawbridge  securely 
fastened  over  a  moat  of  parsley. 

Everybody  gives  every  one  else  some  little 
remembrance  for  Christmas,  and  we  are  rack- 
ing our  brains  to  think  of  things  appropriate 
for  those  at  the  pension.  The  clerks  in  the 
shops  help  one  out  all  they  can.  You  have 
no  idea  how  courteous  they  are.  Always 
on  entering  they  say  "  Good  day  "  and  the 
proprietor  comes  up  with  "  How  can  I  serve 
you,  gnadiges  Frdulein  ?  "  Then  they  will 
[104] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTITJTTTTTTTTTTITITTITTIIIIIIIIITIIillllZTIIIIZIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTra 

pull  down  all  the  goods  in  the  store,  bring 
out  hidden  boxes  from  under  the  counters, 
and  even  send  outside  for  something  they 
have  not  got,  remaining  perfectly  satisfied 
if  you  only  purchase  something.  If  you  buy 
nothing,  however  politely  you  may  regret 
that  the  silk  does  not  match,  or  the  lace 
bear  the  required  pattern,  they  plainly  show 
their  displeasure  in  their  faces. 

We  are  always  politely  escorted  to  the 
door  by  a  clerk,  who  bids  us  good  by. 
Often  in  the  smaller  stores  it  is  amusing 
to  hear  the  chorus  of  farewells  which  fol- 
low us.  Last  week  Polly  and  I  had  coffee 
at  one  of  these  fascinating  Conditorei,  or 
little  bake-shops  which  one  finds  here  every- 
where. For  an  absurdly  small  sum  we  had 
a  table  to  ourselves,  coffee  enough  for  a 
dozen,  and  the  most  delicious  cakes  you 
ever  ate  !  When  we  had  finished,  I  started 
to  leave  some  Trinkgeld  for  the  waitress, 
who  had  served  everything  in  the  daintiest 
fashion. 

"  Fifty  pfennigs  !  "  said  Polly,  looking  at 
the  coin  that  I  had  laid  on  the  table. 
[  105  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


:mmT 


TTTTTIIlITTTttlllllllTIIIIIIIIITTIIIlIIITIIIIXIIH 


"  I  felt  I  ought  to  give  more,  but  they 
told  me "  I  began. 

"  More  !  "  exclaimed  Polly.  "  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing !  Don't  you  know 
that  ten  pfennigs  (two  cents  and  a  half)  for 
each  person  is  considered  quite  sufficient  ?  " 

Polly  has  lived  here  longer  than  I,  and 
has  absorbed  the  idea  that  a  pfennig  — a 
fifth  of  a  cent  —  is  a  pfennig,  and  not  to  be 
lightly  treated.  Accordingly  I  laid  the 
sum  on  the  table.  The  waitress  swept  the 
money  into  the  black  leather  bag  which  she 
wore  about  her  waist  just  as  Kathie  does  in 
Alt- Heidelberg,  and  expressed  her  thanks 
repeatedly  as  she  opened  the  door  for  us 
to  pass  out. 

"  Bitte,  verehren  uns  wiederf"  (Please 
honor  us  again)  said  the  proprietor  from  her 
desk. 

"  Adieu,  meine  Damen"  cried  the  waitress 
at  the  table  in  the  corner,  while  our  little 
maid  poured  forth  a  continual  sing  song  of 
"  Danke  sehr,  meine  Damen.  Best  en  Dank  ! 
Habe  die  Ehre!"  (I  have  the  honor)  until 
we  were  out  on  the  street. 
[106] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

Polly  and  I  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed. 

"  Don't  fancy  it  was  the  effect  of  the  tip," 
said  she.  "  They  go  through  the  same  pro- 
gram for  half  the  money.  I  always  give  ten 
pfennigs  and  have  never  missed  a  word." 

She  laughed  again  gaily,  for  she  is  once 
more  quite  happy  inasmuch  as  the  "poet 
on  the  floor  below"  has  been  suddenly 
called  to  Stuttgart.  A  drama  of  his  has 
been  accepted  there,  and  he  was  so  over- 
come with  joy  that  he  withdrew  his  com- 
plaint and  told  Polly  she  might  "  bang 
away"  till  he  returned. 

"And  now  come  down  to  the  Schlussel 
Bazar  with  me,"  she  said,  tucking  my  hand 
coaxingly  under  her  arm.  "  I  want  you  to 
help  me  select  a  gift." 

There  is  no  more  fascinating  place  for  a 
Christmas  shopper  than  the  Bazar,  but  I 
glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  Theatiner  church. 

"  I  really  can't,  Polly,"  I  said ;  «  there  is 
a  chorus  rehearsal  at  five,  the  last  before  the 
concert,  and  I  must  hurry  along  this  minute 
or  I  shall  be  late." 

[  107  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CmTTTTIIXXXXXIIIIIIIIIIIIXXZniIIIIIIIIIIITIIIimTTTIIIITTITTIIIIIIITTTTT-l 

So  we  parted,  and  I  wended  my  way 
quickly  through  the  fast-gathering  dusk, 
past  the  Feldernhalle,  which  never  looks 
more  imposing  than  when  half  concealed 
in  the  mystery  of  shadows,  across  the  busy 
Platz,  now  twinkling  with  countless  lights, 
by  the  statue  of  Lewis  the  First,  and  in  at 
the  door  of  the  old  Conservatory  itself. 

December  18. 
To-day  came  the  Probe  in  the  big  hall  for 
the  concert  next  week.  The  regular  Con- 
servatory chorus  has  been  enlarged  by  a 
number  of  new  voices,  some  of  which  are 
shrill  enough  to  pierce  through  the  dome 
itself.  I  came  home  utterly  exhausted,  for 
we  were  kept  singing  and  standing  three 
hours,  and  never  in  the  annals  of  conducting 
was  there  a  more  wretched  rehearsal.  For 
the  first  time  I  saw  a  new  side  of  Stavenha- 
gen  ;  he  literally  raged,  but  instead  of  making 
himself  ridiculous  he  was  positively  majestic. 
To  be  sure,  he  got  very  red  in  the  face,  and 
his  blond,  curly  hair,  through  which  he 
despairingly  thrust  his  hands,  was  much 
[108] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mTtllTITIIITTTTTIIIIIITITTIIITtlliSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTIIirtlllllllTTtltlTT^ 

awry,  but  he  stamped  about  on  his  bit  of 
platform  so  ferociously,  shook  his  baton  so 
threateningly,  and  shouted  his  commands  in 
such  sonorous  German  that  I  trembled  in 
my  American  shoes. 

We  sang  first  Liszt's  "  Excelsior."  Why 
is  it  that  the  most  shrinking,  retiring,  and 
timid-appearing  member  of  an  orchestra  is 
always  the  one  to  play  the  instruments  of 
percussion  ?  One  can  easily  imagine  a  stout, 
muscular  creature  presiding  at  the  kettle- 
drums, but  when  we  come  to  look  for  him 
we  discover  him  at  the  end  of  the  line  of 
flutists,  playing  the  piccolo.  The  eternal  law 
of  opposites  is,  I  suppose,  as  applicable  here 
as  elsewhere.  An  unusually  meek  man  was 
to  manage  the  bells  which  play  such  an  im- 
portant part  in  this  work,  and  he  continu- 
ally came  in  half  a  beat  late.  Stavenhagen 
glared  at  him  darkly,  tried  him  several  times, 
and  then  gave  it  up  as  hopeless.  The  chorus 
attacks  were  frightful,  and  each  part  sang  at 
its  own  sweet  will. 

The  Brahms  Requiem  began  more  auspi- 
ciously, and  as  the  beautiful  first  movement, 
[109] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTHITTTTTHTTTTTTTTTTTTITITITIIITTITIYITIIIIIIITTTTITTTTTTTTHTTITTTTra 

which  we  really  sang  well,  went  on,  the 
director's  tense  expression  softened,  and  he 
relaxed  into  his  usual  easy  beat,  hand  on  hip. 
At  the  close,  where  the  sopranos  end  with 
the  pianissimo  phrase,  "  selig  sind"  (blessed), 
and  the  tenors  come  in  yet  fainter  after 
them,  and  the  whole  thing  dies  away  as 
might  the  distant  notes  of  a  celestial  choir, 
we  were  gratified  to  hear  him  murmur  "  Sehr 
schon  ! "  He  praised  us,  too,  for  the  second 
movement.  Is  n't  it  magnificent  when  the 
whole  chorus  sing  in  unison  that  grand,  broad 
theme,  "  Denn  alles  Fleisch  ist  wie  Gras " 
(Behold  all  flesh  is  as  grass)  ?  And  then 
the  tender  melody,  "  So  seid  nur  geduldig  " 
(Therefore  be  patient),  which  follows !  It 
nearly  swept  me  off  my  feet.  Let  critics 
say  what  they  will,  I  love  the  work,  and 
think  perhaps,  after  all,  Mr.  Huneker  is 
right  in  saying  that  Brahms  is  the  first 
composer  since  Beethoven  to  sound  the 
note  of  the  sublime. 

We   were  just   congratulating   ourselves 
on  getting  through  very   creditably,   when 
alas !    we   stumbled  upon  the  pitfalls   and 
I  no  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iiimmimiiTmmmiiimTiiinnmiiiniiiTnnnnrT!TMiiiiinirm 

snares  of  that  most  difficult  of  fugues,  "  Der 
Gerechten  Seelen "  (The  righteous  souls). 
There  is  a  bit  of  it  where  the  tempo  is  amaz- 
ingly tricky,  and  I  remember  no  place,  even 
in  Bach's  B  minor  Mass,  so  difficult  to  sing 
well.  The  girl  beside  me,  who  had  a  high, 
shrill  voice,  insisted  on  coming  in  a  measure 
too  soon,  and  this  repeated  mistake  set  our 
director's  nerves  on  edge. 

"  Die  Erste  Sopran  !  Die  Erste  Sopran  !  " 
(The  first  soprano !)  he  cried,  shaking  his 
baton  at  our  corner.  Over  and  over  we 
sang  the  same  bars,  but  never  once  perfectly. 
Finally  he  threw  down  his  stick,  and  with  a 
desperate  "  Ack,  Gottf"  put  his  hands  over 
his  ears. 

The  chord  broke  off  abruptly.  The 
orchestra,  plainly  very  bored,  carelessly 
examined  their  instruments.  The  other 
members  of  the  chorus  looked  at  us  re- 
proachfully. We  looked  anywhere  we 
dared.     The  first  sopranos  were  in  disgrace. 

After  what  seemed  an  interminable  silence, 
in  reality  about  half  a  minute,  Stavenhagen 
picked  up  his  baton  and  said  calmly,  sternly, 

[in] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mini:ii::n:i:i:irtn:iiiixxxx:iiiiiiiiiiiiixiiniiiTminnxiiiiiirxxmj 

his  voice  cutting  the  stillness,  "  We  will 
go  on." 

Well,  we  got  through  somehow,  but  it 
was  after  eight  o'clock  when  I  ran  down 
the  snowy  street  back  to  the  pension.  The 
family  were  at  supper  and  the  anxious  face 
of  Miltterchen  looked  relieved  as  I  opened 
the  door. 

"  We  thought  you  were  lost,  is  n't  it  ? " 
said  the  Herr  Doktor,  in  what  he  considered 
unimpeachable  English. 

Fraulein  Hartmann,  looking  charming  in 
a  light-blue  gown  which  she  had  donned  in 
honor  of  Lieutenant  Blum,  her  aunt's  guest 
that  evening,  jumped  up  and  ran  to  meet 
me. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  are  here  safe,"  said  she. 
To  her  the  idea  of  a  girl  being  out  alone 
after  six  o'clock  was  almost  inconceivable. 

"  I  myself  was  on  the  point  of  going  in 
search  of  gnadiges  Fraulein"  said  Lieu- 
tenant Blum,  with  a  low  bow,  much  rattling 
of  sword,  and  that  sneering  smile  which  even 
his  great  black  mustache  fails  to  conceal. 

"  That  was  indeed  kind  of  you,  Herr 
[112] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTIIIITTIIITITITITITIIIIHIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIISIIIIIIIIITlIIIIIHTTimnnTTTl 

Leutnant"  I  replied  as  sweetly  as  possible. 
"  You  really  did  n't  think  me  lost,  or  kid- 
napped, or  perchance  murdered  in  cold  blood, 
did  you  ? "  I  added  to  Miitterchen,  as  I  took 
my  seat. 

"  I  might  have  thought  even  such  frightful 
things  as  those,  had  not  our  friend  opposite 
insisted  that  you  had  been  detained  and  that 
there  was  no  need  of  '  putting  up  my  um- 
brella till  it  rained,'  "  she  answered. 

I  looked  gratefully  across  the  table  at  the 
Poet's  Wife,  who  smiled  understandingly 
back.  Hers  is  one  of  those  sunny,  unselfish 
natures  which,  "  when  they  have  passed  the 
door  of  Darkness  through,"  leave  the  world 
a  better  place  than  they  found  it. 

The  serenity  of  perfect  poise  is  such  an 
enviable  thing  to  possess  !  Alas,  that  it  is 
so  seldom  found  in  people  of  a  musical  tem- 
perament !  I  can  hardly  imagine  a  placid 
Tschaikowsky  or  an  unruffled  Dvorak,  can 
you? 


[113] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


cixixixxiixixixiiinx: 


Christmas  Day. 


it     TC 

Stille  Nacht,  heilige  Nacht ! 
Alles  schlaft,  einsamwacht, 
Nur  das  traute  hochheilige  Paar, 
Holder  Knabe  im  lockigen  Haar 
Schlafe  in  himrnlischer  Ruh'. 

Can  you  see  us  as  we  stood  on  Christmas 
Eve  in  the  quaint  dining-room  singing  to- 
gether the  old  carol  which  has  rung 
throughout  Germany  on  this  night  for  cen- 
turies gone  by  ?  We  formed  a  strange  con- 
gregation—  all  wanderers  from  different 
parts  of  the  globe,  for  once  united  by  the 
Christmas  spirit.  There  were  eleven  of  us 
in  all,  —  the  Baron  and  Baroness  with  Karl 
between  them,  their  rosy,  good-natured 
faces  sober  and  reverential ;  Herr  Doktor, 
standing  near,  his  critical  expression  soft- 
ened as,  under  the  spell  of  the  song,  his 
thoughts  turn  to  his  Paris  hearthstone; 
Frau  von  Waldfel,  forgetting,  in  the  mean- 
ing of  the  hour,  to  wonder  what  sort  of 
[114] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

goodies  we  were  to  have  for  dinner  ;  Frau- 
lein  Hartmann,  lost  in  a  dream,  at  her  side  ; 
the  Poet  and  his  sweet-faced  wife,  holding 
each   other    by   the    hand    as    they  joined 
firmly  in  the  refrain ;  Herr  Martens,  aban- 
doning his  student  airs  to  add  a  tenor,  and 
last  —  but  best  of  all  —  Mutterchen.     I  sat 
at  the  piano  to  play    the  accompaniments, 
where  I  could  see  not  only  them,  but  catch 
a  glimpse   of  the   servants  who  stood   to- 
gether outside  in  the  hall.     They  were  all 
arrayed    in    their    best.     Georg,    especially 
gorgeous   in  the  splendor   of  a  new  livery 
with  fully  six  dozen  brass  buttons,  stood  in 
the  front   row.     Next   him  was   the   cook, 
resting  her  hand  on  the  head  of  her  little 
girl,  who  had  been  granted  leave  from  the 
convent  to  attend  this  gala  occasion.     The 
other    servants    crowded    together    behind 
them.     For   this  one   evening   in   the  year 
caste    was    forgotten,    and    the    Baroness's 
strong  soprano  joined  with  the  alto  of  her 
maid  as  they  led  the  rest  in  the  hymn  each 
had  sung  from  childhood. 

All  went  well  till  we  reached  the  second 
[115] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

verse.     Then  1  heard  Herr  Martens'  voice 
tremble,  then  break,  then  cease  altogether. 
Poor   fellow  !  his  family   is   scattered   over 
two    continents,    and    for    him    the    word 
Home  is   associated   only  with   a  sense  of 
forlornness   and   loss.     Gretchen,   our   own 
little  maid,  but  a  year  away  from  the  Bava- 
rian Highlands,  hid   her  face  on  Therese's 
shoulder.     I  looked  at  Mutterchen  bravely 
singing,  but  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  she 
was   thinking   of  Home.      The   picture   of 
those  around  the  table  across  the  sea  flashed 
across  me  and  I  felt  an  odd  tightening  at 
my  throat. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment  —  this  shadow 
of  sadness  on  us  all.  Then  it  suddenly  van- 
ished, for  at  the  last  note  the  Baron  flung 
open  the  double  doors  of  the  salon  and  ah ! 
what  a  bewildering,  fascinating,  wonderful 
tree  was  revealed !  Karl  and  I  exchanged 
glances  with  satisfied  smiles.  We  were 
proud  of  our  work.  The  hours  of  labor  in 
the  morning  spent  in  tying  on  the  vari- 
colored balls,  in  hanging  the  tinsel  favors,  in 
arranging  the  silver  shower  had  not  been  in 
[116] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

TT»n!»iiiiiiiiniiMiiiiiiiiiiitii;miuuimi;miiiiiiiitimmanrn} 

vain.  It  was  indeed  a  marvellous  shower, 
delicate,  fairy-like,  falling  from  the  very  top- 
most bough,  where  stood  the  figure  of  the 
Christ-child  with  outstretched  hands  as  if  to 
bless  those  below. 

For  a  moment  we  were  breathless  with 
admiration.  Then  "All  for  the  presents 
together,"  shrieked  Karl  in  glee,  "  Eins,  zwei, 
drei  !  "  and  in  we  went. 

Along  the  sides  of  the  room  ran  tables 
covered  with  a  white  cloth  and  trimmed 
with  evergreen.  On  these  the  gifts  were 
laid,  not  done  into  parcels,  but  tastefully 
arranged.  Each  person  had  his  own  partic- 
ular group,  and  over  it  hung  a  bough  of 
green  and  a  basket  of  cakes  and  candy.  In 
one  corner  was  a  large  table  for  the  servants. 
Mutter  chen  and  I  could  not  help  smiling  to 
hear  the  flood  of  joyous  exclamations  on 
every  side  as  we  examined  our  presents. 
The  German  language  seems  to  have  an 
endless  supply  of  adjectives  expressive  of  de- 
light. There  are  thousands  of  them,  ranging 
from  the  sonorous  grossartig,  with  the  pro- 
longed rolling  of  the  rs,  to  that  overwhelm- 
[117] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTi»«»«T»»iT»T«»«t«TiT»»»»iiiiiiiiiiiiiixiiiiix.iiiiiiiniiiiiniiiiixnTXTTi 

ing  one  which  has  such  a  wealth  of  emphasis 
on  the  last  syllable,  kol-os-sdl!  When  they 
are  all,  as  it  were,  turned  on  together,  the 
effect  is  torrential ! 

After  we  had  looked  at  our  gifts  and  ad- 
mired those  of  every  one  else,  and  the  ser- 
vants, beaming  with  happiness,  had  shaken 
hands  and  expressed  their  thanks,  we  went 
into  the  dining-room.  Of  course  there  was 
a  Bowie  and  we  drank,  standing,  a  toast  to 
"  Merry  Christmas."  Then  we  played  a  lot 
of  games,  which  although  childish  afforded 
us  much  amusement.  Lieutenant  Blum, 
with  mustache  more  marvellously  twisted 
than  ever,  came  in  and  joined  us,  and  later 
Edith  and  Louise  with  a  lieutenant  of  the 
Second  Regiment  appeared.  Just  before 
twelve  we  all  set  off  for  St.  Michael's  to 
attend  the  midnight  mass. 

The  great  cathedral  was  crowded  when 
we  entered,  and  we  could  only  find  places  in 
the  chancel  on  the  left  of  the  altar.  Thus 
we  had  a  good  view  down  into  the  church 
itself,  and  by  the  flickering  light  on  the  pil- 
lars dimly  discerned  the  vast  crowd  kneeling 
[118] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HlUllllMMUHHIIMTTTnTTTTTTTTTTXrilllllll TTTTTTTTTJ 

in  the  pews,  blocking  the  aisles,  and  occu- 
pying every  portion  of  available  space.  Be- 
yond them  and  above  hovered  mysterious 
shadows.  It  was  almost  oppressively  silent. 
Only  the  footsteps  of  those  entering  broke 
the  intense  stillness.  The  sound,  dying 
away  in  weird  echoes  high  up  beneath  the 
vaulted  roof,  made  the  silence  which  fol- 
lowed more  absolute. 

Suddenly  the  big  bell  on  the  Frauenkirche 
began  to  toll  in  wonderful,  mighty  throbs. 
At  the  same  moment,  from  above  among 
the  shadows,  floated  down  the  sound  of 
music  —  exquisite  strains  of  Palestrina. 
The  door  on  our  left  opened  and  a  long  line 
of  priests  entered,  clad  in  magnificent  robes 
of  white  and  gold.  We  all  fell  on  our 
knees  in  the  semi-darkness,  our  eyes  turned 
towards  the  high  altar,  which  alone  gleamed 
like  a  gorgeous  jewel  beneath  the  rays  of 
a  hundred  tapers.  The  impressive  service 
began. 

Through  hazy  clouds  of  incense  I  gazed 
down  on  the  kneeling,  worshipping  crowd, 
kneeling  and  worshipping  just  as  thousands 
[119]  ' 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTTTTTTTITITIIIIIITTITTIIIITI*IIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIXIIIIXIII»**tTTITrr) 

of  other  throngs  were  doing  at  that  very 
hour,  here  in  far-off  Germany,  in  France,  in 
Italy,  and  across  the  sea.  The  marvellous, 
beautiful  meaning  of  it  all  stirred  me.  My 
mind  turned  back  through  the  ages  to  that 
night  in  the  dusky  stable  of  Bethlehem. 
Surely  it  is  the  wonder  of  all  wonders  that 
one  Life —  one  brief,  mortal  Life,  lived 
among  millions  of  other  lives  —  now  after 
the  passing  of  centuries  stands  out  as  the 
sole  link  uniting  all  Christendom. 

Lost  in  the  beauty  of  the  service  with  its 
lights  and  incense  and  music  and  gold-decked 
priests,  it  was  with  a  start  that  I  awakened 
as  it  were  from  a  spell  when  the  music 
ceased,  and  the  priests  had  filed  out  through 
the  arched  door.  The  cathedral  felt  sud- 
denly damp  and  chill,  and  shivering,  I  pulled 
my  cloak  around  me. 

"  I  did  n't  care  for  the  organist's  selection  at 
all,"  said  Polly  critically,  as  we  turned  to  go. 

"  We  must  walk  as  quickly  as  possible  or 
we  shall  all  be  ill  for  a  week  with  colds  from 
sitting  so  long  in  this  damp  church,"  added 
Edith  in  her  emphatic  way. 
[120] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

But  the  Poet's  Wife  said  nothing.  She 
only  looked  at  me  with  her  deep,  unfathom- 
able eyes,  and  pressed  my  hand  gently. 
Sometimes  she  reminds  me  of  you,  Cecilia. 
She  is  one  of  the  few  in  the  great  world 
who  Understand. 


[121] 


3TTTt»TIIIIITITIIlIIIITT;iTTTITITITTTrTTTTHr;iTtTHrTTTTtT»TTTTTIf»T?rTTT 


V 


IIIIIIIIIIII I :iIIIIIITITITITIITIIIIIi;iTTTITTTTTt*ITTTTTTTTTTTTYl;TiTTTTT* 


iiitiiiiiiiriiinniiTiiiiiiiiirtTiiiiiiinii.il ,.,, 


Meran,  January  1,  1903. 

^J^JHE    HAPPIEST    OF    NEW 

M  Years  to  you,  Cecilia!  Have  you 
-*  ever  been  among  the  mountains  in 
winter  ?  Have  you  ever  run  away  on  a 
holiday  to  a  quaint  little  town  nestling  in 
the  valley,  and  wandering  through  narrow 
streets  and  climbing  up  snowy  roads  for- 
gotten that  such  things  as  canons  or  double 
counterpoint  exist  ?  If  not,  Cecy  mia,  get 
out  your  hood  and  fur  coat  and  start !  But 
before  you  go,  let  me  tell  you  that  I  have  a 
deep-rooted  conviction :  namely,  that  you 
can  find  no  more  entrancing  spot  on  the 
globe  than  Meran.  For  Meran,  you  must 
know,  lies  exclusively  apart  from  the  rest  of 
the  world,  deep  down  in  the  valley  of  the 
Adige  and  jealously  guarded  on  every  side  by 
high  mountains,  like  a  jewel  in  a  casket.  The 
mountains  themselves,  covered  with  snow 
from  base  to  summit,  are  so  magnificent  and 
stirring  that  I  call  them  Wagner  mountains. 
And  oh !  the  sunset  on  their  frosty  peaks, 
[  1^5  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tllTSTTTITTTTTTTTTITtTTTTTItlTTTITIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIirillXIIIXIIIXIIIIimTTTO 

when  all  the  white  is  changed  to  rose  —  it 
beggars  description. 

We  left  Munchen  on  Christmas  Day  — 
just  after  my  writing  you.  All  the  pension- 
naires  and  servants  came  to  the  carriage  and 
bade  us  good  by  with  much  hand-shaking 
and  expressing  every  possible  good  wish  for  a 
pleasant  journey,  just  as  if  we  were  to  be 
gone  a  year  instead  of  ten  days.  Can  you 
imagine  spending  Christmas  riding  through 
the  Brenner  Pass  ?  Let  me  tell  you,  too, 
there  never  can  be  anything  more  marvel- 
lous than  this  same  Brenner  Pass  in  winter. 
There  has  been  a  heavy  storm  for  some  days 
and  it  left  the  whole  country  half  buried 
in  a  white  cloak.  Snow,  snow  everywhere, 
covering  every  mountain,  stretch  of  valley, 
and  hill !  It  is  a  grand  sight.  We  were  so 
enchanted  with  the  scenery  that  we  forgot 
to  mourn  the  lack  of  holiday  festivities. 
Then,  too,  we  did  have  one  important  fea- 
ture of  the  season,  for  it  only  needed  a 
glance  out  of  the  windows  to  discover  a 
Christmas  tree.  Indeed  we  were  in  the 
midst  of  a  whole  forest  of  them,  only  in 
[126] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

Ltiilillt^,^LLL^xiiititittIXXXXXXrXllIXXXXIIIlIIIIIItIIIiItltlTTiin;tTT7TTT^ 

place  of  tinsel  and  spangles  we  had  the 
lovelier  decoration  of  pure  snow,  and  instead 
of  brilliantly  colored  favors,  from  every 
branch  hung  pendants  of  flashing  ice,  which, 
like  finely  cut  gems,  reflected  the  sunlight 
in  flashes  of  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 

On  the  train  who  should  chance  to  be  in 

the  next  compartment  but  Miss  B from 

California,  one  of  the  students  at  the  Con- 
servatory. We  had  a  delightful  chat  over 
music.  She  is  studying  with  Krause,  and 
told  me  quite  a  little  about  him.  She  says  he 
is  very  erratic  in  his  teaching  and  never  gives 
a  lesson  twice  alike.  Sometimes  he  paces 
up  and  down  the  room  while  the  pupil  is 
playing.  Often  lie  gazes  abstractedly  out 
of  the  window  for  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
saying  nothing.  Again,  he  stands  with  his 
back  to  the  stove,  hands  behind  him,  appar- 
ently listening ;  then  suddenly  darts  out  of 
the  room  and  does  not  return  for  twenty 
minutes. 

"  When  he  teaches  Beethoven  it  is  a  dif- 
ferent story,"  she  went  on.     "  He  likes  to 
do   that   better   than  anything.     He  draws 
[127] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

riiiiixxxTiTXTiiinTTTitinTinrnniitiiixixxxxxxxxxxxxixxixxxxxixxxxxxxira 

up  a  chair  and  sits  close  beside  the  pupil, 
following  every  note.  The  slightest  mistake 
is  not  overlooked.     It's  a  fearful  ordeal ! " 

We  changed  cars  at  Bozen,  for  only  a 
single  branch  road,  winding  through  the 
picturesque  valley  of  the  Adige,  connects 
Meran  with  civilization.  On  our  arrival  we 
found  the  heartiest  of  welcomes  from   our 

friends  the  S s  who  were  at  the  station. 

We  drove  at  once  to  their  home,  which  is 
called  "  Villa  Pomona,"  and  is  situated  on 
the  hill  overlooking  the  town.  The  servants 
greeted  us  at  the  gate,  and  the  dogs  came 
bounding  out  with  enraptured  barks.  Turn- 
ing into  the  path  leading  to  the  house  I 
had  my  first  good  look  at  the  villa.  It  is 
square,  and  constructed  of  yellowish  stone. 
Between  the  windows  are  frescoes  represent- 
ing the  goddess  of  plenty,  the  graces,  etc. 
A  terrace  runs  around  it.  It  reminds  one, 
in  a  way,  of  the  Pompeian  houses.  Inside, 
it  is  no  less  charming,  and  oh  !  so  de- 
lightfully American  in  its  furnishings  and 
arrangement !  The  only  discord  in  the 
harmony  are  the  German  porcelain  stoves, 
[128] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTiTtTirTriiiiTiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinririiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiriTiriTi 

but  one  can't  have  everything  and  live  in 
the  heart  of  the  Austrian  Tyrol  too. 

We  breakfast  in  the  loveliest  room  up- 
stairs. The  windows  command  such  an 
inspiring  view  that  one  almost  forgets  to 
eat.  Below  lies  the  valley  itself  with 
its  one  church  spire  and  its  mass  of 
quaint,  low  yellow  buildings  huddled  to- 
gether ;  on  the  heights  at  the  right  rises  an 
old,  crumbling  tower,  the  remnant  of  a  once 
splendid  castle  ;  on  the  left  stretches  out 
the  valley,  and  far  away  there  in  the  dis- 
tance, so  far  that  the  blue  of  the  sky  be- 
comes misty,  one  sees  the  first  spurs  of  the 
Dolomites  which  guard  the  gateway  into 
Italy.  On  every  side  rise  these  majestic 
mountains  of  snow,  whose  peaks  look  as  if 
cut  out  by  a  giant  knife,  and  laid  against 
the  background  of  an  intensely  blue  sky. 

When  we  have  finished  breakfast  we 
generally  take  a  walk  to  town.  Our  ob- 
jective point  is  the  post-office,  but  we  would 
accept  almost  any  pretext  to  wander  down 
the  hill  and  join  the  crowd  strolling  in  the 
sunshine  on  the  Gisela  Promenade.  The 
o  [  129  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

Promenade  lies  across  the  river,  for  an  im- 
petuous little  stream  cuts  the  village  into 
two  sections.  Accordingly,  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  we  cross  the  most  picturesque  of 
stone  bridges  and  find  ourselves  at  once  on 
the  broad  walk,  which,  lined  with  fine  old 
poplars,  runs  straight  along  the  bank  of 
the  river.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  walk  is 
crowded.  Meran  is  not  only  a  fashionable 
resort  in  winter,  but  a  favorite  spot  for 
invalids  on  account  of  the  perfection  of  its 
climate.  One  sees  them  always  on  the 
Promenade  at  this  time,  walking  slowly  up 
and  down,  leaning  back  in  wheel  chairs, 
listening  to  the  music  of  an  excellent 
Capellc,  as  they  call  the  orchestra,  which 
plays  here  daily.  If  the  weather  happens 
to  be  cold,  which  is  seldom  the  case,  the 
music  can  be  enjoyed  in  the  luxurious  Cur- 
haus  especially  built  for  the  purpose. 

It  was  just  by  the  band-stand,  in  the 
delightful  sunshine  of  our  second  morning 
here,  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
Carl  Zerrahn.  You  remember  the  time 
when  he  was  such  a  prominent  conductor  and 
[130] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

,TtTtt«»ttytTTtHflllTtt»t»IIlllTTITIIIlllli:>IIXmiIIIIIIIIIIHIIlIIIIIIIP 

musician  in  Boston,  do  you  not  ?     We  had 
sat  down  to  rest  and  hear  the  music  when 

Mr.  S pointed  to  the  tall,  commanding 

figure  of  an  elderly  man  slowly  approaching. 

"  Here  comes  Zerrahn,"  he  said ;  "  he  is, 
alas,  almost  blind  now,  and  cannot  recognize 
any  one  except  at  close  range." 

A  thrill  of  sadness  swept  over  me,  as  I 
recalled  him  as  the  first  conductor  I  ever 
saw,  standing  on  the  stage  at  the  old  Music 
Hall  and  sweeping  the  Handel  and  Haydn 
Society  along  in  those  great  choruses  of  the 
"Messiah  "  and  "  Elijah."  His  hair  is  now 
snow  white,  and  his  walk  feeble,  but  he 
stands  as  proudly  erect  as  when  he  wielded 
the  baton  in  the  height  of  his  success. 

He  did  not  perceive  us  approaching, 
although  the  members  of  the  Capelle,  who 
all  knew  him,  watched  us  curiously.  When 
we  were  within  a  few  feet  of  him,  we  intro- 
duced ourselves  as  old  friends  whom  he  had, 
perhaps,  by  this  time  forgotten.  It  was 
charming  to  see  his  frank  delight  in  meet- 
ing us  again  and  in  learning  news  of  Boston, 
which  he  loves  very  dearly. 
[  LSI  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

lltlSIIIIIIIIIITIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIIirtXIIIIIItlHIITITTTTTHHHrTimTTTTn 

"  I  am  staying  with  my  son  here,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  feel  that  Boston  is  my  home,  and  I 
shall  go  back  there  in  a  year  or  so.  I 
worked  and  lived  and  grew  in  Boston.  It 
is  to  me  what  no  other  city  is." 

He  asked  about  the  Handel  and  Haydn 
Society,  inquired  about  my  musical  studies 
and  the  Munich  opera,  and  was  so  thoroughly 
kindly  and  interested  in  everything  pertain- 
ing to  his  art  that  I  could  not  but  think  of 
Victor  Hugo's  lines,  "  There  are  no  wrinkles 
on  the  heart." 

In  the  afternoon  we  go  driving  over  some 
of  these  countless  roads  about  Meran.  It  is 
like  travelling  through  a  magnificent  picture 
gallery.  The  other  day  we  went  shopping. 
You  never  saw  anything  so  fascinating  as 
the  stores.  The  principal  ones  are  in  the 
"  Lauben"  the  quaintest  of  streets,  whose 
sidewalks  are  built  under  arcades.  When 
we  enter,  the  girl  in  attendance  always  says 
"  Kilss9  die  Hand."  The  first  time  I  heard 
this  I  frankly  put  out  my  hand  to  be  kissed. 
A  laugh  from  them  all  made  me  blushingly 
draw  it  back  again.  I  learned  that  even 
[132] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

here  in  this  cool  sequestered  vale  of  the 
Adige  people  do  not  say  what  they  mean. 
It  seems  the  proper  thing  to  murmur  "Kites' 
die  Hand"  but  no  one  but  a  servant  would 
ever  think  of  actually  doing  it.  It  is  a  sort 
of  "  take  the  will  for  the  deed  "  arrangement. 
The  prettiest  thing  happened  here  this  New 
Year's  morning.     We  were  all  sitting  in  Mr. 

S 's  study  hearing  the  latest  American 

paper  (two  weeks  old)  read  aloud,  when  there 
came  a  rap  at  the  door.  A  moment  later 
the  gardener,  his  wife,  and  two  little  girls 
entered,  dressed  in  their  holiday  clothes. 
They  all  bowed  solemnly.  Then  the  parents 
withdrew  to  the  background,  the  father 
nervously  turning  his  cap  around  in  his  brown 
hands,  while  his  wife,  in  true  German  fashion, 
held  the  bundle,  a  huge  thing  clumsily  done 
up  in  white  paper.  The  older  of  the  two 
little  girls,  who  could  not  have  been  more 
than  five,  shyly  advanced.  In  a  high,  ex- 
cited voice  she  recited  a  little  poem  about 
the  New  Year.  Her  sister,  no  less  thrilled  by 
the  occasion,  recited  very  rapidly  two  more 
verses  about  Freude  (joy)  and  Glilck  (hap- 
[  133  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTITTTIITIHIIIITITITIITttltlTITIilTIISIIIITrillXXXIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTYi 

piness).  As  a  finale  they  together  took  the 
bundle  and  with  the  prettiest  of  courtesies 

handed   it   to   Herr   and  Frau  von  S , 

"with  best  wishes  for  a  happy  New  Year 
and  many  thanks  for  their  kindness."     The 

S s   were    much    pleased    and   touched 

by  this  charming  simplicity.  The  package 
proved  to  be  a  beautiful  plant  of  azaleas,  and 
the  whole  quartet  were  radiant  with  delight 
as  we  passed  the  gift  among  us  and  praised  its 
beauty.     They  went  away  with  many  bows, 

looking,   oh !    so    happy,    and    Mrs.    S 

ordered  an  extra  supply  of  beer  for  them 
in  the  kitchen. 

That  reminds  me  of  a  curious  custom  here. 
Did  I  tell  you  that  a  servant  is  engaged  at  so 

much  a  week  with  beer  ? 1     Mrs.  S says 

the  maids  make  a  dreadful  uproar  if  their 
beer  is  not  forthcoming,  and  the  cook  insists 
on  several  bottles  a  day.  I  should  think  this 
might   be  detrimental  to  the  cooking,  but 

Mr.  S assures  me  that  it  has  quite  the 

contrary  effect,  and  the  more  beer  she 
drinks  the  better   she    cooks. 

1  Also  an  English  custom. 

[134] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iTi;m;iH;iTTTm!;!I!III!miIII!Hi;TIIIIITITIT!THHttlT!'tIITl'TTmTTTTI 

This  afternoon  we  took  a  long  drive,  re- 
turning through  the  town,  so  I  had  a  fine 
chance  to  see  the  peasants  in  gala  array. 
Near  a  wayside  shrine  (one  finds  them  every- 
where here)  we  came  upon  a  crowd  of  young 
peasants  sitting  on  the  stone  wall,  or  leaning 
lazily  against  it  smoking  meerschaum  pipes. 
The  splendor  of  their  costumes  was  quite 
startling.  Their  funny  little  round  hats, 
usually  severely  plain,  were  coquettishly 
decorated  with  bunches  of  yellow  flowers 
fastened  on  the  brim  at  the  back.  Their 
coats  and  trousers  were  of  corduroy.  Most 
noticeable  of  all  were  their  waistcoats  of 
scarlet  or  bright  green. 

"  They  seem  to  have  very  pronounced 
tastes,"  I  remarked.  "  Is  n't  it  odd  that  some 
of  them  choose  red  and  the  others  choose 
green,  as  if  they  belonged  to  a  college  team  ?  " 

"There    is    method    in    their   madness," 

answered  Mr.  S laughingly.     "  A  much 

more  serious  matter  than  a  question  of  taste 
is  at  stake.  Let  me  inform  you  immediately, 
my  dear  young  lady,  that  those  whom  you 
see  before  you  in  red  waistcoats  are  married 
[135] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rrrTifTTTTTTTITTTTITIHITIIIITIIIITIIIHITIXItlTIIIIIIirillTIIITtlTTTITTtTTm 

men,  while  those  in  green  are  bachelors  and 
in  the  market,  so  to  speak.  It  strikes  me 
as  not  a  half-bad  idea.  Surely  a  girl  can't 
innocently  fall  in  love  with  the  wrong  man 
here." 

"  Unless  she  is  color-blind,"  I  added. 

It  is  time  for  supper,  and  as  Mrs.  S 

has  promised  us  a  real  American  meal  I  don't 
want  to  risk  being  a  second  behindhand. 
No  one  can  realize  what  that  means  —  a  real 
American  meal  —  unless  one  has  been  living 
for  four  months  on  a  German  pension  diet. 
Why,  after  so  many  foreign  menus,  I  feel 
like  the  poor  soul  who  "near  a  thousand 
tables  pined  and  wanted  food."  Yesterday 
we  actually  had  muffins  for  breakfast. 
Think  of  that  when  one  is  living  in  a 
country  where  the  mere  hint  of  hot  bread 
or  ice  water  calls  forth  the  remark,  "I  do 
not  see  why  all  you  Americans  don't  die  of 
indigestion." 

I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that  the 

officer  I  met  on  the  Promenade  this  morning 

was  Lieutenant  Blum.     He  passed  by  with 

a    number    of    other   officers    and    several 

[136  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

ritltTTTtTTIIIHIITttTITTtTTTTIttTITTTTTIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirm 

showily  dressed  women,  all  talking  and 
laughing  loudly.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
he  might  have  come  down  here  on  leave, 
but  hardly  probable  under  the  circumstances. 
I  did  not  get  a  full  look  at  his  face.  It  was 
the  swaggering  walk  and  the  little  fat  hand 
raised  to  salute  a  brother  officer  that  made 
me  start  and  look  again.  By  that  time  he 
had  almost  passed.  Nonsense !  Probably 
this  very  minute  he  is  at  the  pension  ac- 
cepting a  cup  of  tea  from  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann's  slender  hands,  while  Frau  von 
Waldfel  from  behind  the  urn  regards  him 
with  admiring  glances,  for  of  course  the 
Fraulein  is  not  allowed  to  see  him  alone. 
That  would  be  a  frightful  breach  of  etiquette. 
Well,  I  will  let  you  know  when  I  return. 
For  her  sake,  I  rather  hope  I  was  mistaken. 

Innsbruck,  January  3. 

Yesterday  we  regretfully  left  Meran,  but 
the  memory  of  our  delightful  stay  there 
will  long  haunt  us,  and  we  are  living  in 
hopes  of  another  visit  to  this  earthly  par- 
adise. We  reached  Innsbruck  at  three 
[  187  I 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

;imHTIIIHTmiTIIHIHITITHmTITT»tTITIIITttHItIIHtItIIItmiimrr 

o'clock,  and  by  four  found  ourselves  here, 
in  this  most  fascinating  of  houses  —  for, 
Cecilia,  we  are  actually  living,  eating,  sleeping 
in  a  castle,  a  real,  bona  fide  castle,  once  the 
hunting  lodge  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian. 
I  see  you  start  and  your  eyes  glow.  "  A 
fig  for  music ! "  you  say  ;  "  Let  me  live  in 
your  castle."  Yes,  you  who  so  revel  in 
mediaevalism,  to  whom  the  glimpse  of  faded 
tapestries  and  dulled  armor  is  as  so  much 
wine,  would  surely  be  in  your  element  here. 

How  this  former  resort  of  knights  and 
retainers  sank  to  the  materialistic,  twentieth- 
century  level  of  a  pension  I  have  not  yet 
learned,  nor  cared  to.  All  I  know  is  that 
the  grand  old  dining-room,  hung  with 
ancient  portraits  of  the  royal  house,  still 
remains ;  that  the  carved  balconies  with 
their  worn  railings  overlooking  the  rushing 
stream  of  the  Inn,  the  narrow  winding 
corridors,  the  high  diamond-paned  windows, 
the  picturesque  terrace,  the  goblets,  beakers, 
and  trophies  of  the  hunt  are  yet  here  — 
decaying  relics  of  a  brilliant  past. 

This  morning  I  discovered  the  crowning 
[138] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTiTTiiinTTTTiT»nnT»iiiiiiitiitiTiiiiririiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiii:iiiiiirTTTm 

feature  beneath  this  most  enchanting  of 
roof-trees.  Leaving  Miltterchen  to  toast 
her  feet  by  the  fire,  I  went  in  search  of  a 
book  in  the  library.  In  the  many  twistings 
and  turnings  of  the  corridors  I  lost  my  way. 
At  length  I  found  myself  at  the  top  of  a 
short  flight  of  steps,  and  thinking  this  was 
only  another  way  to  the  library,  I  walked 
down  them  and  along  the  hall.  A  worn 
door  was  at  the  end.  I  pushed  it  open  and 
entered.  For  a  moment  the  darkness  of  the 
place  blinded  me,  coming  as  I  had  from  the 
brightness  of  the  outer  house.  Then  I  saw 
more  clearly  there  were  people,  yes,  actual, 
live  people,  kneeling  on  the  stones  and 
telling  their  beads  within  touch  of  my  hand. 
No  one  noticed  me  as  T  stood  by  the  door. 
As  I  looked  about  me  I  saw  that  I  was  in 
a  chapel  all  of  stone.  Before  me  was  an 
altar  decorated  garishly  with  paper  flowers. 
The  light  of  the  sacrament  burned  dimly 
above,  and  cast  a  shadow  on  the  rough 
crucifix  hanging  near.  A  few  rays  of  sun- 
light sifting  in  through  the  high  window 
at    the   farther   end    of    the   room    sent    a 

r  is9  i 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

{TTTITTTIITTTTTT1HTIITTTTt»IIIlIItt»IIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHli:iIimiIia 

shattered  shaft  across  the  heads  of  the 
peasants,  who,  absorbed  in  prayer,  made  no 
movement  save  to  slip  their  beads  along 
their  rosaries.  The  suddenness  of  the  change, 
the  sense  of  awe  in  coming  upon  this  one 
room,  this  one  place  set  aside  as  a  shrine  in 
the  very  midst  of  a  busy  household,  was 
startling.  I  felt  myself  an  intruder,  and 
noiselessly  slipped  away. 

Upon  inquiry  at  luncheon  I  discovered 
that  it  is  the  regular  custom  on  fete  days 
for  the  people  of  the  village  to  climb  up  the 
hill  and  attend  mass  where  the  ruler  of  their 
fathers  was  wont  to  worship.  On  a  second 
visit  I  discovered  that  on  the  right,  just 
after  entering  the  chapel,  is  a  tiny  square 
room  which  at  a  first  glance  looks  like  a 
cell.  In  the  rough  stones  of  the  wall  a 
square  hole  is  cut,  and  beneath  it  is  a  bench 
to  kneel  upon.  This  place  was  the  private 
oratory  of  the  Emperor,  and  here  he  used 
to  attend  mass,  receiving  the  sacrament 
through  the  orifice  in  the  stones. 

Can  you  imagine  anything  more  fascinat- 
ing than  living  in  a  house  where  every  nook 
[140] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CIITItltlTTTIIITITTTTTITITITTrtTIITITTIIIIIIIIIIirilllllllllllllllllllllirrn 

and  corner  is  alive  with  memories  of  the 
past  ?  I  could  stay  here  for  weeks,  but 
vacation  is  over  and  we  leave  for  Munich 
to-morrow. 

January  11. 

Here  we  are  again  in  old  Miinchen ! 
Every  one  in  the  pension  expressed  him  or 
herself  as  delighted  to  see  us  back,  with  all 
that  cordiality  which  is  one  of  the  most 
charming  characteristics  of  the  German 
nature. 

I  began  again  my  lessons  with  Thuille  on 
Wednesday.  I  had  sent  him  at  Christmas 
a  little  remembrance,  as  is  the  custom  here. 
Naturally  I  expected  he  would  thank  me, 
but  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  what  fol- 
lowed. As  at  his  "  Herein  !  "  I  entered  the 
smoke- wreathed  studio,  he  tossed  his  cigar- 
ette into  the  waste-basket,  jumped  up  from 
his  desk,  and  with  both  hands  extended 
came  to  meet  me. 

"  Ach ! gnadiges  Fraulein  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
"  you  were  so  kind  to  remember  me  in  that 
charming  way."  Then  what  do  you  think 
[141] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTTT»TTTTTITITII»TXTTTITIIIIIIIIXIi;iriIIIIIIIIIIITITITi;tIIIirTTTItTTTTTTTTTT 

he  did  ?  He  bent  over  my  hand  in  the 
most  dignified  way  and  kissed  it.  I  felt 
like  an  empress  holding  court,  and  blushed 
to  the  roots  of  my  hair  at  the  honor  he  had 
done  me.  I  took  my  accustomed  chair 
beside  his  at  the  piano,  inwardly  praying 
that  it  would  not  be  my  ill  luck  to  push  off 
to  the  floor  any  one  of  the  dozens  of  cig- 
arettes which  always  lie  carelessly  strewn 
about.  Then  I  placed  my  fugue  on  the 
music  rack.  Whatever  I  bring,  be  it  sona- 
tina, invention,  or  merely  a  counterpoint 
exercise,  Thuille  daringly  plays  it  out 
forte.  This  is  so  different  from  the  way 
Mr.  Chadwick  does.  He  seldom  if  ever 
touches  the  piano  when  looking  over  work, 
but  takes  the  sheet  and  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  "  hears  it  in  his  head,"  marking  the 
mistakes  with  a  blue  pencil.  My  fugue 
was  pronounced  recht  gut,  which  made  me 
very  happy,  for  I  had  spent  several  hours 
over  it.  When  Herr  Professor  had  finished 
with  my  work  he  brought  out  a  piece  of 
music  from  the  cabinet. 

"  Here  is   a  thing  which  is  worth  your 

ri42] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mnniuiimiitimiimniiiinmiiiimnnmnTniiiii mtiitt.t.3 

while  to  study,"  he  said.  It  was  Mozart's 
Serenade  in  B  flat  major  for  wind  instru- 
ments, including  the  corno  di  basetto  and  the 
contrafagotto.  If  you  want  a  task,  try  to 
play  it  from  score  at  sight.  Thuille  rattled 
it  off  as  though  it  were  the  simplest  exercise. 
I  could  not  repress  a  sigh  when  he  had 
finished. 

"  Ach  Gott,  my  child  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
smiling  at  my  hopeless  expression  ;  "  I  don't 
expect  you  to  play  it  now  like  that.  Study 
the  construction  and  the  instrumentation. 
You  will  learn  much  from  it." 

As  I  rose  to  go  I  noticed  a  number  of 
loose  manuscript  sheets  on  his  desk. 

"  This  is  a  new  piece  for  orchestra  I  am 
doing,"  said  he. 

A  page  of  full  orchestra  score  always 
fascinates  me.  It's  rather  odd,  when  you 
stop  to  think  of  it,  now  isn't  it,  that  all 
those  little  black  dots  with  tails  to  them 
represent  actual  sounds  of  different  instru- 
ments and  that  they  together  produce  an 
harmonic  whole  ?  There  is  as  much  individ- 
uality in  the  writing  of  these  dots  as  in 
[143] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

handwriting.  Thuille's  notes  are  very  small, 
distinct,  and  closely  written.  Professor  Paine 
has  a  large,  firm  hand.  Chadwick's  notes 
appear  as  though  hastily  dashed  off,  although 
perfectly  legible.  I  remember  distinctly  the 
day  he  showed  me  the  score  of  his  brilliant 
Symphonic  Sketches.  It  looked  interestingly 
complex,  although,  to  tell  the  truth,  what  im- 
pressed me  most  were  the  original  verses 
which  preceded  each  sketch.  They  cleverly 
portray  a  definite  mood,  and  are,  as  it  were, 
the  key  to  what  follows.  Never  by  any 
chance  do  these  appear  in  the  program  book, 
so  the  listener  is  left  to  puzzle  out  for  him- 
self just  what  the  composer  means  to  convey. 
I  am  to  begin  soon  to  study  overture  form, 
and  Thuille  asked  me  to  bring  Beethoven's 
overtures  with  me  at  my  next  lesson. 

Later. 

We  are  both  much  struck  with  the  change 
in  Fraulein  Hartmann.  She  is  much  paler 
than  she  was  before  we  went  to  Meran,  and 
flushes  nervously  at  the  least  excitement. 
Mutterchen,  who  has  the  misfortune  to  be 
[144] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CTIIIITTITTTITITTIITtlllllllTTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIlIIIIIim 

next  to  Frau  von  Waldfel  at  table,  inquired 
if  her  niece  were  ill. 

"  Indeed,  no ! "  answered  the  Hungarian 
woman  somewhat  sharply.  "  What  can 
you  expect  when  a  girl  betrothed  to  an 
officer  makes  ready  for  a  grand  wedding  in 
the  spring  ?  There  is  much  to  be  done  and 
dozens  of  gowns  to  be  ordered.  My  niece 
is  merely  tired  with  the  happiness  of  it  all." 

At  that  moment  I  caught  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann  exchanging  a  glance  across  the  table 
with  the  Poet's  Wife.  In  that  one,  quick 
flash  I  read  many  things,  for  the  eyes  of 
the  former  betokened  genuine  distress,  while 
the  reassuring  look  which  met  hers  was  that 
of  a  sympathizing  friend.  A  second  later 
the  Poet's  Wife  was  tactfully  leading  Frau 
von  Waldfel  to  give  her  views  on  the  new 
cooking-school,  while  Fraulein  Hartmann 
abstractedly  replied  to  the  queries  of  a  stout 
American  woman  who  sat  next  her.  This 
new  arrival  is  merely  here  for  a  few  days. 
She  and  her  apologetic-appearing  husband 
are  "  doing "  Germany,  Italy,  and  France 
complete  in  three  weeks. 
10  [  145  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTXTXItlXIIIIIIIIIIIIXIXIIIIIIlXIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIITtllTTTTTTTTT^ 

"  I  want  ter  know  where  those  pictures 
of  Reuben  are.  Baedeker  stars  em  three 
times,"  said  the  stout  traveller,  turning  to 
me. 

I  was  longing  to  ask  "  Reuben  who "  ? 
but  Mutterchen,  evidently  sensing  my  temp- 
tation, pressed  my  foot  under  the  table ; 
so  I  merely  said  as  politely  as  I  could,  "  I 
think  you  mean  the  pictures  in  the  old 
Pinakothek  by  Rubens,"  and  gave  them 
the  directions  to  Barer-strasse.  While  they 
were  commenting  upon  them,  I  wondered 
what  could  have  happened  during  our  ab- 
sence to  make  Fraulein  Hartmann  and  the 
Poet's  Wife  close  friends.  I  wanted  to  ask 
if  Lieutenant  Blum  had  been  at  Meran,  but 
intuitively  I  felt  it  best  not  to  mention 
the  subject.  Here  is  indeed  a  romance  to 
which  I  have  found  no  key,  as  Omar  would 
say. 

The  Conservatory  is  open  again  and 
everything  is  in  full  swing.  In  spite  of  the 
fact  that  I  have  very  little  opportunity  to 
practise  on  the  piano  —  because  my  work  for 
Thuille  requires  the  greater  part  of  my  time, 
[146] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

^iTiiiiiniiiiiminnmnnni"'""""""1"""1"""""""""1' 

—  I  enjoy  the  lessons  immensely.  When 
we  read  at  sight  I  find  them  especially  inter- 
esting. We  have  been  playing  some  splen- 
did things  for  two  pianos,  among  them  those 
lovely  Schumann  variations  in  D  major. 
If  you  don't  know  them  get  them  by 
all  means.  Yesterday  we  finished  Brahms' 
symphony  in  E  minor,  with  its  vigorous 
allegro  giocoso,  and  have  begun  Liszt's 
Symphonic   Poems. 

How  everything  helps  everything  else  in 
music !  The  orchestra  reveals  its  nuances 
twice  as  clearly  when  one  is  familiar  with 
the  actual  material  of  a  work,  and  then  in 
composition  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
have  a  broad  field  of  literature  from  which 
to  draw  models  and  examples. 

Poor  Frau  Bianci  is  in  a  terrible  state 
over  my  pronunciation  of  German.  u  It 
will  go  in  speaking,"  she  says,  "  but,  ach 
Gott !  must  be  much  finer  for  singing  !  "  I 
managed  to  get  Beethoven's  "  Kcnnst  du 
das  Land  ? "  to  suit  her,  but  only  after 
much  toil  for  both  of  us.  I  repeated  each 
phrase  a  dozen  times  after  her  before  I  was 
I  147  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

,„,„,.,,! ,,,iur iiiimMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinimmxiiiin 

allowed  to  sing  it.  Truly,  I  feel  very 
young  and  irresponsible.  Don't  talk  about 
musical  temperament  and  feeling  to  me  ! 
My  one  idea  is  to  get  the  vowels  open 
enough  and  to  pronounce  these  fiendish 
umlauts  in  the  approved  fashion.  I  fell 
down  most  shamefully  on  Schubert's  "  Mar- 
guerite at  the  Spinning- Wheel."  You  know 
how  wonderfully  sad  and  beautiful  that  is. 
Bianci  was  quite  pleased  at  my  rendering 
of  the  first  verse.  Then  I  sang  the  second, 
where  the  music  works  up  climactically  and 
the  words  run, 

"  Sein  hoher  Gang,  sein'  edle  Gestalt, 
Seines  Mundes  Lacheln,  seiner  Augen  Gewalt, 

Und  seiner  Rede  Zauberfluss, 
Sein  Handedruck,  und  ach,  sein  Kuss  !  " 

At  this  point  Frau  Bianci  broke  off  playing, 
and  leaned  back  in  her  chair  with  a  sigh. 
Then  she  said  with  cutting  sweetness  of 
tone,  "  The  idea  of  this  song  is  to  make 
your  audience  cry,  not  to  make  them  laugh. 
That  word  is  Lacheln,  Lacheln,  Ldcheln  !  " 

I  felt  as  though  I  had  suddenly  shrunk 
from  Marguerite  to  a  naughty  child  of  five. 
[148] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

Then  a  sense  of  rebellion  stirred  me.  I 
wanted  to  tell  her  that  I  had  not  been  born 
with  a  German  throat,  and  that  such  things 
as  umlauts  were  a  disgrace  to  any  language. 
However,  I  controlled  myself  and  said 
nothing. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  into  Hofre- 
gisseur  Miiller's  class,"  she  said.  "  It  will 
be  of  great  benefit  to  you.  Please  attend 
to-morrow  at  nine  o'clock." 

Very  meekly  I  answered,  "  Yes,  Frau 
Professor,"  as  I  picked  up  my  music  and 
went  out,  not  having  the  faintest  idea 
who  Hofregisseur  Muller  was,  nor  what  his 
sonorous  title  meant. 

At  nine  the  following  day  I  was  at  the 
Conservatory.     On   the  stairs  I    met   Miss 

P ,  a   Philadelphia  girl  who   is    in  my 

piano  class.  She  explained  to  me  that  Herr 
Muller  was  the  Regisseur,  that  is,  the  coach 
for  acting  at  the  opera  house,  and  that  his 
class  was  the  Aussprache,  or  dramatic  class, 
for  the  vocal  students  who  were  to  sing  in 
public.  She  herself  is  studying  for  opera 
and  finds  her  work  with  him  very  beneficial. 
[149] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


IIIIIIIIII 


TTiTiTinnnnmumtiiiinriiiiiiiiixiiiixixiimnxxiiiTTTTTn 


"  But  I  'm  not  going  on  the  stage,"  said  I, 
quite  startled.  "What  does  one  have  to 
do?" 

Miss  P laughed  at  my  distressed  ex- 
pression. "Why,  nothing  but  read  before 
the  class.  Your  pronunciation  is  corrected 
by  Herr  Miiller.  It  is  just  as  good  as  a 
German  lesson,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  by  the  bye, 
don't  mind  if  they  laugh  at  you.  They 
always  laugh  at  foreigners." 

With  this  parting  shot  as  my  encourage- 
ment, I  went  in.  The  room,  on  the  upper 
floor  just  opposite  the  hall  where  we  have 
the  chorus  rehearsals,  is  large  and  barnlike. 
A  grand  piano  stands  in  dignified  solitude 
in  the  centre,  and  at  the  end,  near  the  green 
porcelain  stove,  is  a  long  table  around  which 
the  class  sits.  Herr  Miiller  has  his  place  at 
the  head.  He  is  an  interesting  type  of 
man,  very  portly,  with  snow-white  hair  and 
mustache,  and  a  pair  of  noticeably  keen, 
speculative  eyes.  The  appreciation  of  the 
humorous  is  strongly  marked  on  his  broad 
features. 

"  Eine  Amerikanerin  !  "  he  said,  smiling, 
[150] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTITiyTTHITIItfTITTIIIIirTIIIIIITIItlllllllllllllllllllllHIIIIIimXm 

as  I  came  in.  It  is  odd  how  quickly  the 
people  here  detect  our  nationality.  He 
motioned  me  to  a  chair,  then  slowly  drew  a 
large  watch  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it  on 
the  table  before  him. 

"  Well,  Fraulein,  what  have  you  ? "  he 
inquired  of  the  first  girl  on  his  left,  who 
promptly  handed  him  the  "Bride  of  Mes- 
sina" and  going  to  the  farther  end  of  the 
room  began  to  recite  shrilly  a  passage  by 
heart.  At  every  line  the  Herr  Regisseur 
would  thunder  forth  criticisms  in  his  great, 
vibrant  voice.  When  her  turn,  which  lasted 
five  minutes,  was  past,  he  called  on  the  next 
girl,  a  soft- voiced,  shrinking  creature  in  a 
low-necked  blouse.  She  murmured  halt- 
ingly that  she  had  "  Das  Veilchen"  (The 
Violet).  "  Ach!  Das  Vtilchen!"  lisped  he, 
with  his  head  on  one  side,  in  the  same  tremu- 
lous tones.  The  imitation  was  such  a  capital 
one  that  we  all  laughed.  In  the  bare  room 
the  effect  was  that  of  a  hilarious  whoop.  I 
began  to  see  what  was  in  store  for  me. 
After  a  few  wretched  moments  I  determined 
to  take  the  whole  affair  as  a  joke.  There 
[1511 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTXTTIXTTTTTHHTTHHlHITTIIXIXIXIIIXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXIXXXXXXXXXIXXXXXIXITn 

were  nine  girls  to  be  called  on  before  it  came 
my  turn,  but  in  what  seemed  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time  they  had  all  finished  and 
Herr  Mliller  was  calling  my  name. 

"  Recite  one  verse  very  slowly,"  said  he. 

"  Meine  Ruhe  ist  kin  "  (My  rest  is  o'er),  I 
began  bravely,  feeling  how  poignantly  ap- 
plicable the  line  was  to  my  present  situation. 
Throughout  my  recital  I  could  plainly  hear 
titterings  from  the  girls,  but  I  kept  my  eyes 
firmly  fixed  on  the  picture  of  Beethoven 
over  the  door.  When  I  had  finished,  Herr 
Regisseur  laid  the  book  down  on  the  table, 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  laughed.  The 
whole  class  joined  with  him.  Not  to  be 
outdone,  I  laughed  too,  albeit  somewhat 
weakly. 

"  Now  much  louder  and  slower,  Frdulein 
aus  Amerika"  he  said.  "Repeat  after  me, 
'Meine  Ruhe  ist  hin.'" 

It  was  the  same  thing  that  I  had  tried 
with  Frau  Bianci,  only  now  I  enunciated 
every  syllable  with  painful  effort,  my  voice 
pitched  to  fortissimo. 

"  Not  bad,"  said  he,  when  I  had  finished, 
[  152] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mxxxxnix:xxxiizxx::irxnixiixxixxi:iiiix:xxiri:iiiiirriininTTTTiiTrTTTTT 

although  his  eyes  twinkled.    "  Learn  another 
verse  for  next  time." 

We  all  went  over  to  the    Gartner  Platz 
Theatre  last  week  to  see  "  The  Geisha."    The 
little  opera  house  is  very  cosy,  but  oh !  how 
strange  "The  Geisha"  sounded  in  its  new 
word-clothes!     From   a  musical  standpoint 
it  was  delightfully  given,  but  to  my  mind 
the  Germans  have  not  snap  enough  to  pro- 
duce light  opera  well.     We  have  seen  two  or 
three  things   there,    among   them     Strauss' 
charming  Fleder maus,  and  have   invariably 
remarked  the  same  thing.     The  chorus  sang 
excellently,  but  were  selected  with  absolutely 
no  eye  for  beauty  or  grace.     And  how  the 
Amazons  did  wear  their  armor  !     They  re- 
minded me  more  of  tired  waitresses  after  a 
hard  day's  work  than  the  spirited  war-maidens 
they  were  supposed  to  represent.     Sparkle, 
vivacity,  delicacy,  —  all  these  elements  which 
make  light  opera  what  it  should  be,  —  were 
lacking.     I  am  convinced  that  God  created 
the  Germans  for  grand  opera  and  that   in 
the  captivating  froth  of  operettas  they  are 
distinctly  out  of  their  element.     One  wishes 
[153] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTtiTTT»»mnTtiitimTttTHT>iti;iiTTt!iiimimiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

he  might  look  into  the  music  of  the  future 
and  see  how  the  school  of  the  versatile 
American  will  eventually  evolve  ;  whether  it 
will  be  individually  characteristic,  or  blindly 
content  to  follow  the  path  laid  down  by  its 
forerunners  across  the  sea. 

There  is  splendid  skating  now  in  the  Eng- 
lischer  Garten.  Last  Saturday  after  lessons 
six  of  us  met  at  the  Sieges  Thor  with  our 
skates.  The  ice  on  the  Grosse  Hesselohe, 
the  pond  at  the  upper  end  of  the  garden, 
was  in  excellent  condition.  At  the  farther 
end  of  it  the  International  Hockey  Team, 
composed  of  men  from  the  University  of 
Munich  and  the  Polytechnic,  was  having  a 
match  with  some  strangers.  The  Germans 
skate  very  well  and  seem  devoted  to  the 
sport.  This  seems  rather  odd  to  me,  as  they 
do  not  as  a  rule  care  for  outdoor  exercise 
except  walking.  Golf  is  unknown  as  yet, 
and  although  they  have  a  game  which  they 
call  football,  it  would  hardly  be  recognized 
by  that  name  in  our  country. 

We  had  a  delightful  afternoon  and  came 
back  ravenous  for  supper. 
[154] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mTirnirTTTT»iiiTTMiiiiiinTiTMinmTTTniniiiiillllliiiiiniiim»ii 

Friday. 

I  have  n't  yet  told  you  what  a  time  I  had 

to  get  the  candy  S sent.    It  was  the  day 

after  your  bountiful  Christmas   box   came. 
By  the  bye,  1  trust  you  have  received  our  ac- 
knowledgment of  it  by  this  time,  and  I  want 
to  tell  you  now  that  the  plum  pudding  was 
not  hurt  a  particle.     The  cook  steamed  it, 
and  we  invited  all  the  pensionnaires  to  share 
it   with  us  at  dinner.     If  you  could  have 
but   heard  their  compliments,  you  or  your 
cook    would    certainly   have    blushed   with 
pride.     Why,  even  Frau  von  Waldfel  con- 
fessed that,  after  all,  people  did  have  some- 
thing good  to  eat  in  America,  a  fact  she 
had   never   formerly   believed.     But    about 
the  candy. 

In  my  morning's  mail  I  found  a  Legitima- 
tions-Karte.  Does  n't  that  sound  imposing, 
as  though  I  had  graduated  with  honors 
from  some  academy?  It  really  is  nothing 
more  than  a  statement  that  a  package  lies 
in  the  custom-house  waiting  to  be  called 
for.  The  office  itself  is  in  a  large  room 
[155] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tt»»iTTTttmii!TTinimriTiTiTiiiiTiimimmmi«minnnMiiTTrm 

like  a  hall,  and  full  of  all  sorts  of  bundles, 
boxes,  and  burlap  bags,  which  look  like  the 
accumulation  of  years.  The  blue-bloused 
Dienstmann  behind  the  counter  found  my 
box  for  me  and  cut  the  string,  for  which 
I,  of  course,  gave  him  a  tip.  (You  know 
nothing  is  free  in  Germany.  We  have  to 
pay  even  for  our  programs  at  the  theatre 
or  opera.1) 

Having  concluded  this  first  matter,  I 
walked  down  a  corridor  and  into  the  room 
on  the  right.  Here  I  took  my  place  at 
the  end  of  a  long  line  of  people.  It  was 
certainly  twenty  minutes  before  I  reached 
the  scales,  for  all  the  packages  are  weighed, 
you  know.  With  impressive  dignity  the 
burly  man  in  charge  leisurely  weighed  my 
box,  recorded  the  number,  and  directed  me 
into  yet  another  room. 

Accordingly  I  made  my  way  to  the  desk 
where  duties  are  registered.  Here  I  waited 
again  in  line  for  some  time.  After  all  this 
red  tape  I  fancied  I  should  have  to  pay 
at  least  six  marks,  but  when  my  turn  came 

A  universal  custom  all  over  Europe. 

[156] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

»»imHlIII!T»Iimilli:iimimtirTiiTTiiniiminm»TiiiinTttTTTTT 

I  found  that  only  forty-five  pfennigs  were 
required  before  I  could  make  my  escape. 
As  I  began  tying  my  box  together  yet 
another  of  these  persistent  officers  accosted 
me. 

"  Your  number,"  said  he,  as  if  I  were  a 
freshman  taking  an  entrance  examination. 
I  stared  at  him,  then  recalled  the  red  figures 
on  my  package. 

"  Two  hundred  and  two,"  I  said. 

"You  must  step  here,"  he  announced 
authoritatively. 

I  was  so  tired  of  stepping  this  way  and 
that,  that  my  first  impulse  was  to  refuse, 
but  for  fear  that  this  might  mean  the  sacri- 
fice of  my  real  American  candy,  I  followed 
him  meekly  into  the  next  room,  where  he 
solemnly  scribbled  something  in  a  big  black 
book.  Then,  with  a  flourish  which  shook 
the  gold  fringe  of  his  uniform,  he  handed 
me  a  paper. 

"  That  is  all,"  he  said. 

"  All  ? "  I  asked.  Now  that  escape  seemed 
so  near  I  doubted  its  possibility. 

"  That  is  all,"  lie  repeated,  with  a  low 
L157J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


ixxxxixrixxrxr] 


CXXIXXXIXXXXXXIXXXXXXXIIIlHimHirtHHTTTTTTHIUlTTTTTT-", 

bow.  I  turned  on  my  heel  and  never 
slackened  my  pace  till  I  was  at  the  door 
of  the  pension.  By  this  ridiculous  pro- 
ceeding I  had  lost  just  two  hours  on 
my  counterpoint.  The  candy,  however,  is 
wonderful !  I  never  tasted  anything  more 
refreshing.  Certainly,  Germany  is  no  place 
for  candy  —  nor  for  doing  things  quickly, 
either. 

On  the  fifteenth  came  the  first  production 
in  Germany  of  the  French  opera  Messidor 
before  a  crowded  audience  at  the  opera 
house.  The  libretto  is  by  Zola  and  the 
music  by  Bruneau.  The  work  is  typical  of 
its  school,  especially  in  the  orchestration. 
As  in  some  of  Massenet's  pieces,  the  trom- 
bones burst  forth  every  few  minutes,  as  if  to 
say,  "  Don't  fancy  for  a  moment,  kind  public, 
that  we  have  gone  out  for  a  glass  of  beer. 
We  never  miss  but  a  few  bars."  The  so- 
called  symphonic  Legends  vom  Golde,  a 
symbolic  pantomime,  if  I  may  so  call  it, 
which  opens  the  third  act,  struck  me  as 
unutterably  tawdry,  but  the  last  scene  had 
a  perfectly  charming  setting,  and  the  climax 
[  158  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


miniimnmurm 


mmnxzi.inii"rni':iTTTT  mii  imnmr 


was  very  effective.  At  the  final  curtain 
the  composer  was  called  out  several  times, 
but  the  opinion  of  the  audience  seemed  to 
be  divided,  for  although  the  applause  was 
plentiful,  continued  hissing  from  the  oppo- 
nents of  the  French  school  was  distinctly 
audible.  Bruneau  is  tall  and  slight,  with 
black  pointed  beard  and  waxed  mustache. 
He  responded  in  several  constrained  little 
bows,  as  though  charmed  with  the  applause, 
and  as  if  utterly  unconscious  of  any  less 
complimentary  sounds. 

We  are  hearing  much  talk  of  balls  and 
frivolity,  for  the  carnival  is  just  begin- 
ning. Already  the  Baron  is  planning  to 
make  up  a  large  party  for  something, 
and  of  course  I  shall  write  you  all  about 
it.  Louise  and  Edith  are  coming  over 
to  do  ear-training  to-night  at  eight,  and 
it  is  already  time  for  supper,  so  this  must 
end  my  letter  for  to-day.  All  good  wishes 
for  you. 

M. 

Do  you  know  the  "  Beethoven-Lied  "  by 
Cornelius  ?     The  greater  part  of  it  is  com- 
[159] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

eTIHIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIITItlllTIIIITIHHIITIlIITHIHIlmilTryi 

posed  of  the  principal  theme  of  the  first 
movement  of  the  Eroica  Symphony.  We 
sang  it  in  the  chorus  hour  on  Thursday.  I 
should  think  it  might  be  a  splendid  thing 
for  your  club  to  work  at. 


[160] 


:rrigllllllililiiiiiiiriiiTiriiiiziiiiiiiiiTiTT;i;iTiTTTiTiiTiiTTm-rrrr 


VI 


IIlI^IIlIIllIIIIIIIirillllTIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIITIIIIITimTTTTIIirTIIITTTT-rH 


TTTiiTTiiiTtiimiTiTiTiiiixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiriiiixiiiimiiiiiiirrT 


February  jfr. 
Du  Uebcs  Cecilchen :  — 

/'D  GIVE  EVERY  PFENNIG  IN 
my  possession  to  walk  into  your  study 
to-day  and  take  you  by  surprise.  In 
fact,  I  have  stopped  in  the  very  midst  of 
my  orchestration  lesson  to  tell  you  so.  My 
chord  of  the  seventh  is  unresolved,  my  flutes 
and  oboes  are  hanging  in  midair,  and  my 
horns  are  blowing  away  on  the  fifth,  all  be- 
cause a  wave  of  the  Indescribable  swept 
over  me,  and  I  simply  had  to  throw  down 
my  pencil  and  talk  to  you  ! 

The  preliminary  symptoms  of  this  abomi- 
nable Something  appeared  this  morning  when 
my  mail  failed  to  arrive.  Then  after  three 
hours'  hard  work  on  a  new  fugue-subject, 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  what  I  had 
written  was  absolutely  worthless,  and  thrust 
it  in  the  waste-paper  basket.  In  the  after- 
noon no  letters  came,  but  several  news- 
papers, whose  essential  feature  consisted  in 
describing  varied  and  brilliant  festivities  at 
home.  I  could  not  repress  a  sigh  as  I  read. 
[163] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIIlIIIIXIIIXIIXIIII?IIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIIItTTTTTTTn 

Finally  Georg  came  bowing  in  with  the 
announcement  that  the  opera  for  the  even- 
ing had  been  changed  and  Der  Freischutz 
substituted  for  "  Lohengrin."  I  felt  like 
throwing  my  ink-well  at  the  Obelisk,  run- 
ning down  to  the  booking  office  in  Prom- 
enade-Platz,  and  engaging  a  passage  to 
America  on  the  spot. 

Not  that  I  was  really  angry  with  the 
Obelisk,  for  I  have  but  one  dearer  friend  in 
all  Munich,  and  that  is  the  Fountain.  The 
latter,  however,  no  longer  sings  as  I  pass. 
It  has,  as  it  were,  retired  for  the  season,  and 
a  hideous  paling  of  gray  boards  hides  it  com- 
pletely from  view.  Such  is  the  inartistic 
effect  of  winter.  I  can't  tell  you  how  much 
I  miss  its  ever  sympathetic,  ever  beautiful 
voice.  Indeed,  so  barren  and  desolate  is  the 
upper  end  of  the  Platz,  that  I  changed  my 
route  of  walking  and  thus  came  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  Obelisk.  Not  only  do 
I  pass  by  daily,  but  whenever  I  look  out  of 
my  window  I  can  see  in  the  distance  its 
slender,  black  shaft  sharply  outlined  against 
the  sky.  Strange,  is  it  not,  with  what  a 
[164] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

nrrTTTTTIIXIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIITIITIIITIIIIIlIIIIIIIIHIIITlIlItlHTtllllTTTT! 

keenly  human  note  inanimate  things  some- 
times appeal  to  us  ?  Just  as  I  hear  and  love 
the  Voice  in  the  Fountain,  so  I  draw  a 
feeling  of  protection  from  this  towering 
creation  of  stone,  as  though  a  kindly  sentinel 
were  standing  guard  over  me  and  mine. 

Since  my  mood  to-day  is  gray  in  color,  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  of  the  gayest  thing 
which  has  happened  since  I  wrote,  namely, 
a  gorgeous  masked  ball,  for  you  know  it  is 
carnival  season  now  and  frivolity  reigns  su- 
preme. I  have  been  working  so  constantly 
lately  —  for  my  long  lessons  with  Thuille 
and  the  work  at  the  school  take  practically 
every  moment  of  my  time  —  that  the  ball 
seemed  like  an  extraordinary  piece  of  dissi- 
pation. Therefore  I  was  quite  excited  as  I 
joined  the  party  of  pensionnaires  in  the  salon 
on  Tuesday  evening.  What  a  cosmopolitan 
lot  we  were  !  The  curious  jumble  of  German, 
French,  Italian,  and  English  was  laughable. 
The  stout  American  and  her  pocket-edition 
of  a  husband  have  departed  and  given  place 
to  two  Italian  women  who  converse  equally 
well  in  three  languages.  The  Poet's  Wife 
[165] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

»ITHIItIITtTIIXITTHITITHIIIIIIIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirirTn 

always  speaks  perfect  French  with  Herr 
Doktor,  which  won  his  heart  long  ago.  Of 
course  we  were  all  chatting  of  the  frolic  to 
come  as  we  clambered  into  the  droschkies 
awaiting  us  at  the  door.  The  ball,  it  seems, 
was  given  under  the  auspices  of  the  press. 
The  Baron  had  obtained  invitations  for  us 
through  a  member  of  the  Jugend  staff. 
(The  Jugend  is  that  very  artistic  periodi- 
cal which  you  have  perhaps  seen.)  There 
were  so  many  of  us  that  a  box  had  been 
engaged,  for  the  affair  was  held  at  one  of 
the  theatres. 

Every  one  who  attended  was  obliged  to 
wear  a  costume  representing  some  feature 
pertaining  to  the  woods,  and  it  required  no 
little  thought  to  design  something  original 
and  effective.  Fraulein  Hartmann  and  I 
had  decided  to  go  as  flowers,  and  Miitter- 
chen  and  the  Poet's  Wife  put  their  heads 
together  and  created  a  Rose  gown  and  a 
Violet  gown.  Frau  von  Waldfel  was  so 
agitated  over  her  own  costume  that  she 
quite  forgot  to  criticise  ours.  She  had  chosen 
to  represent  a  bee,  and  had  arrayed  herself 
[166] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

niniiii:iIIIIIIIIi:ilir:iIIIIIIIi:iIllllllliiiinrirT;riTTtTTii:;!tTTTT-rm 

in  black  netting.  On  her  head  was  a  crown 
of  black  and  yellow,  and  from  her  shoulders 
hung,  or  should  have  hung,  a  pair  of  gauze 
wings.  But  something  went  wrong,  and  the 
wings,  instead  of  suggesting  airy  flittings 
through  space,  drooped  at  a  curious  angle 
and  gave  the  impression  that  they  were  not 
mates.  However,  her  distress  was  mitigated 
by  the  Baroness,  who  declared  that  the  cos- 
tume was  "wonderfully  becoming,"  and  as 
soon  as  she  arrived  she  forgot  to  worry 
about  her  wings  in  the  excitement  of  the 
ball  itself. 

What  a  fascinating  sight  burst  upon  us  as 
we  stepped  inside  the  ballroom  !  The  whole 
place  was  alive  with  a  dancing  crowd  of 
fairies,  gnomes,  flowers,  butterflies,  and  dry- 
ads, who  flitted  past  in  a  bewildering  whirl 
of  ever  changing  color.  All  the  women 
wore  little  black  masks,  which  gave  them  a 
most  coquettish  appearance.  The  men  were 
not  masked,  but  their  costumes  were  fully  as 
artistic.  As  I  watched  the  glittering  throng 
moving  to  the  strains  of  a  fascinating  waltz 
which  came  floating  out  from  behind  a  grove 
[  167  I 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTmTTTTTTTiTiTimiiiTttiimiiiimmm;mmiHinn»iiTTnmtiiTTin 

of  evergreens  on  the  stage,  I  could  easily- 
fancy  I  was  in  fairyland. 

Just  as  we  were  about  to  cross  the  hall 
Fraulein  Hartmann  caught  me  by  the  arm. 

"  I  've  torn  my  gown,"  she  said  in  a  hur- 
ried, excited  manner,  as  she  held  up  the 
ragged  ruffle  on  the  edge  of  her  train.  "  I 
must  go  to  the  dressing-room  and  fix  it. 
Will  you  tell  my  aunt  ?  And  oh !  please 
say  it  may  take  twenty  minutes  or  —  or  a 
half-hour." 

I  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  Her  cheeks 
were  flushed  brilliantly,  and  I  would  have 
given  much  to  have  seen  the  expression  of 
her  eyes,  which  her  mask  half  hid. 

"  Why,  if  you  would  let  me  help  you " 

I  began,  but  she  interrupted,  pressing  my 
arm  tighter. 

"  Let  me  go  alone,  please,  kleine  Ameri- 
kanerin."  Her  voice  was  pleading  and 
oddly  intense.  "  It 's  only  such  a  short  time 
—  and,  believe  me,  there  is  nothing  wrong, 
really.     I  shall  thank  you  always." 

Before  I  had  an  opportunity  to  reply  she 
had  slipped  away  in  the  crowd.  To  say  I 
[168] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

:TITTTTTTTTTTTTTtTTTTTTTTTITITTTTTITTTT:lIIIIIIIIITIITTI?XTTTTTTIIIIIITTTTTT1 

was  amazed  were  to  put  it  mildly.  I  was 
dumfounded.  Two  points  alone  seemed 
clear  in  my  mind  :  first,  that  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann  had  no  idea  of  spending  a  half-hour  in 
sewing  on  a  few  inches  of  ruffle  ;  second,  that 
whatever  her  motive  for  remaining  away 
might  be,  it  was  "  nothing  wrong "  ;  her 
frank,  sweet  nature  utterly  forbade  such  an 
idea. 

Rather  troubled,  I  caught  up  quickly  with 
the  others  of  the  party  and  entered  the. box 
to  find  Lieutenant  Blum  and  Lieutenant 
Linder  waiting.  They  looked  surprised  at 
seeing  me  alone,  and  I  hastily  explained  the 
situation.  Lieutenant  Linder  then  suggest- 
ed that  we  three  take  a  stroll  about  the  hall, 
and  we  started  off,  I  talking  very  rapidly,  in 
the  hope  of  turning  their  attention  from  the 
Fraulein's  continued  absence.  I  would  not 
have  been  a  woman  had  I  not  myself  been  a 
bit  curious  about  her.  We  made  a  tour  of 
the  room  and  at  length  came  to  the  head  of 
a  flight  of  stairs.  I  declared  that  I  was 
dying  of  curiosity  to  discover  what  lay  at 
the  foot,  so  we  descended  and  found  our- 
[169] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTITTTHIHTIIIIITTttIT?IITTTTITIIIHIIIIIIITIIIiriIIIIIIIIIIIIIi;iTTHTTTm 

selves  in  the  very  midst  of  a  forest.  On 
every  side  extended  paths  lined  with  trees 
whose  branches  met  above  in  arches.  At 
the  end  of  one  of  the  paths  we  saw  a  log 
hut.  Above,  through  interlaced  branches, 
shone  a  silver  moon.  I  could  not  help  ex- 
claiming at  the  beauty  of  the  illusion. 

There  were  countless  little  arbors  and 
retreats  where  couples  were  sitting  out 
dances.  We  had  just  started  to  turn  down 
the  path  to  the  right,  when  I  caught  sight 
of  a  rose-colored  dress  in  one  of  these  arbors. 
A  step  farther  and  I  saw  that  the  girl  lean- 
ing against  the  bench  was  Fraulein  Hart- 
mann.  Her  head  was  thrown  back  in  a 
characteristic  attitude  and  her  lips  were 
parted,  as  though  eagerly  listening  to  the 
words  of  her  companion.  He  —  for  of 
course  it  was  a  man  —  was  a  broad- 
shouldered  fellow,  with  a  smooth  face  and  a 
sword-cut  on  his  forehead.  Bending  for- 
ward, he  looked  up  intently  into  the  face  of 
the  girl,  talking  very  earnestly,  very  rapidly, 
as  if  pleading  a  case  under  pressure  of  time. 

Quick  as  a  flash  I  wheeled  about  and 
[170] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[IIIITIIIIITIIXTIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIXIIIlIIIIIIIIIiririlllTItirtlllllTTTTITl 

faced  the  others,  for  the  path  was  only 
broad  enough  for  us  to  proceed  in  single  file. 
I  declared  this  walk  stupid ;  the  hut  was 
the  only  thing  really  worth  seeing ;  where- 
upon my  bodyguard,  although  laughing  at 
the  capriciousness  of  my  sex,  obediently 
followed.  How  long  I  lingered  about  that 
wretched  hut  1  can't  say.  At  last,  when 
every  pretext  was  gone,  I  made  my  way 
back  again  upstairs.  What  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief I  gave  when  we  reached  the  box,  for 
there  sat  Fraulein  Hartmann,  smiling  in  her 
sweet,  plaintive  fashion,  and  talking  to  her 
aunt  and  Herr  Doktor  with  the  utmost  self- 
possession.  A  moment  later  we  had  whirled 
away  among  the  dancers,  and  I  did  not  have 
an  opportunity  to  exchange  a  word  with  her 
alone. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  orchestra  stopped 
playing  for  an  hour  and  supper  was  served. 
Half  of  the  people  had  been  eating  and 
drinking  the  entire  evening,  for  tables  had 
been  spread  in  the  boxes  from  the  opening 
of  the  ball.  This  did  not,  however,  seem  to 
make  any  difference  in  the  keenness  of  their 
[171] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTTT»TT»mT»TiiiTiiiT»t»»iiiiiTTiiiiimiiiiiiiniimixiimii:iiiix»iin 

appetites  now.  We  had  a  very  jolly  time 
in  our  box,  for  beside  the  pensionnaires  were 
several  Americans.  Among  them  were  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Albert  Sterner.  You  are  doubt- 
less familiar  with  the  delightful  work  of  Mr. 
Sterner.  He  has  won  considerable  reputa- 
tion, especially  for  his  illustrations.  Both 
he  and  his  wife  added  much  merriment  to 
the  party,  for  they  are  very  entertaining. 
The  ball  began  again  at  one,  but  no  one 
thought  of  going  home  till  four  o'clock. 
We  left  Lieutenant  Linder  still  dancing. 

"  This  lasts  till  five,"  he  explained,  as  he 
took  us  to  our  carriage.  "  I  shall  get  a  cup 
of  coffee  at  the  restaurant,  change  to  my 
uniform,  and  be  ready  for  Dienst  (service)  at 
six.     I  really  haven't  time  to  go  to  bed." 

I  captured  two  very  pretty  souvenirs  of 
the  occasion,  one  of  which  you  shall  have  to 
decorate  your  den.  Every  one  who  went 
down  on  the  floor  wore  a  favor  made  of  blue 
ribbon,  fastened  with  a  gold  head  of  Folly. 
Lieutenant  Linder  and  Herr  Martens  both 
presented  me  with  theirs,  and  in  spite  of 
acquiring  a  habit  for  greediness,  I  smilingly 
[172] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mmmiinnimm»i»lllii»imnimmmnmmniTtitiinit»TnTl 

accepted  both,  with  a  thought  for  you. 
They  will  look  extremely  well  tacked  to 
an  American  wall. 

I  did  so  wash  for  a  word  with  Friiulein, 
but  she  drove  home  alone  with  her  aunt. 
As  I  wrote  you,  I  only  see  her  at  table,  and 
so  any  conversation  of  a  confidential  character 
is  out  of  the  question.  She  is  not  a  girl  to 
practise  deception,  unless  forced  by  circum- 
stances, hence  I  fancy  that  there  is  some- 
thing of  a  serious  nature  behind  her  action. 
Evidently  the  handsome  young  man  with 
the  sword-cut  is  the  key  to  the  mystery! 
Very  likely  she  is  in  love  with  him,  instead 
of  with  that  disagreeable  Blum.  Were  she 
an  American  girl  it  would  not  take  her  long 
to  throw  over  the  uniform  and  marry  the 
man  she  loves  ;  as  it  is,  with  her  family  and 
an  officer  weighing  the  balance  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  scales,  I  fear  the  stu- 
dent's chances  are  not  the  most  favorable. 

After  Supper. 

At  my  last  lesson  Thuille  informed  me 
that    he    and    Tasso   were   going    hunting 
[173] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HII»TttITtITIHHITTTTTIII!tTTTT»T»tIIIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIXIXimm3 

on  Saturday.  Would  I  pardon  him  if 
he  gave  me  my  lesson  in  his  hunting 
costume  ?  Accordingly  to-day  he  appeared 
in  a  wonderful  green  shirt  striped  with 
white,  and  open  at  the  neck.  His  jacket, 
short  trousers  and  gaiters  were  of  some 
rough  cloth,  and  the  effect  was  decidedly 
unprofessional. 

The  train  left  directly  after  the  lesson, 
and  Tasso  was  evidently  quite  alive  to  the 
fact,  for  instead  of  sleeping  under  the  desk 
as  he  usually  does,  he  roamed  about  restlessly 
during  the  entire  hour,  and  finally  became 
so  importunate  that  his  master  unceremoni- 
ously put  him  out.  I  had  taken  in  a  prac- 
tice piece  scored  for  wood-wind  and  horn, 
including  bass  clarinet  and  contra-fagott. 
The  ideas  on  which  I  had  written  the  part 
for  bass  clarinet  were  suggested  by  that 
bit  for  the  instrument  in  the  third  act  of 
"  Siegfried "  where  Brunnhilde  is  wakened 
by  the  all-powerful  kiss.  Unfortunately  my 
result  was  not  what  might  have  been  called 
an  unqualified  success.  In  one  measure  I 
had  put  a  rest  at  the  second  beat,  after 
[174] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

writing  two  notes.  This  immediately  at- 
tracted Thuille's  attention. 

"  Why,  you  Ve  left  him  hanging  in  the 
air !  Poor  fellow,  he 's  hanging  in  the 
air  between  heaven  and  earth  ! "  he  said 
laughing,  but  not  unkindly.  I  thought 
I  ought  to  laugh  too,  so  I  joined  in, 
nervously.  It  is  queer  how  much  more 
humorously  these  things  strike  one  after 
a  lesson  than  at  the  time  they  actually 
happen. 

"  This  is  the  way  he  would  have  to  play 
that,"  continued  the  professor.  He  puckered 
up  his  mouth,  held  his  fingers  exactly  as  the 
player  would,  squinted  at  my  score  with  his 
head  on  one  side,  and  blew  two  notes, 
"  Poom !  Poom  ! "  Then  he  took  the 
imaginary  instrument  suddenly  away  while 
his  mouth  seemed  to  be  forming  the  same 
tone.  He  looked  so  funny  that  this  time  I 
could  not  help  laughing  heartily,  and  I  saw 
my  mistake  at  once. 

Later  we  came  to  a  horn  passage,  and  in 
place  of  the  mildly  flowing  chords  in  half- 
notes  which  I  had  written  he  substituted 
[  W5  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HIlIIIIIIilllilXXIIXXXIXIXIXIilXIllXXIIIIIIIIIIXIIlIIHTTTIIIIIirTIIIIIITTTT 

eighth-note  phrases.  "  I  thought  that  would 
be  too  fast,"  said  I,  in  self-defence. 

"  Study  modern  scores  ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Study  modern  horn  parts !  But  don't 
forget  the  classics  either ;  and  never  study 
Schumann  or  Brahms  for  orchestral  writing. 
They  were  both  poor  scorers." 

I  sometimes  wish  he  employed  similes  in 
his  explanations ;  they  have  such  a  way  of 
sticking  in  my  head  and  making  me  remem- 
ber. I  recall  now  an  especially  vivid  one 
which  Chadwick  once  made  to  his  orchestral 
class :  "  Here  you  have  your  instruments 
of  the  orchestra  just  like  so  many  colors  on 
a  palette,"  he  said.  "  You  combine  different 
ones  just  as  you  mix  your  colors,  to  obtain  a 
desired  effect.  Your  task  is  to  make  a  com- 
plete, finished  picture.  Choose  your  subject 
and  go  ahead,  but  take  care  to  select  your 
materials  wisely." 

If  you  remember,  Professor  John  K.  Paine 
has  also  a  fondness  for  illustrating  his 
point  in  this  manner,  only  he  chooses  litera- 
ture instead  of  art  as  the  source  from  which 
to  draw  his  comparisons.  I  can  see  us  now 
[176] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

LiiixfiiiiiiiiiiTriiiiiiiTiiiiiiiTiiiiiriiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiinnTTTTi 

sitting  side  by  side  in  that  dingy  little  room 
in  Vaughan  House  before  the  new  music 
room  existed,  taking  notes  on  his  lectures, 
and  can  hear  him  saying,  "  Beethoven  is 
the  Shakespeare  of  music."  Do  you  re- 
member the  day  when  Miss  R brought 

her  dog  into  the  class,  and  Professor  Paine, 
after  peering  at  it  mildly  over  his  glasses 
from  his  seat  behind  the  table,  made  some 
witty  remark  about  the  increased  interest  in 
his  lectures  which  now  drew  the  very  beasts 
to  hear  him  ?      And  later,  how  kindly  but 

firmly  he  insisted  that   Miss  R leave 

her  pet  at  home  hereafter,  inasmuch  as  he 
had  already  punctuated  his  paper  on  Haydn, 
and  he  did  not  consider  the  assistance  of  the 
dog,  who  broke  in  every  now  and  then  with 
sharp  barks,  at  all  necessary. 

As  soon  as  the  lesson  was  over  I  hurried 
home,  for  Miltterchen  and  I  had  seats  for 
the  Zauberflote  that  evening.  We  had 
an  early  supper  in  our  rooms,  for  the  opera 
began  at  half-past  six.  I  had  not  heard  a 
Mozart  opera  since  last  September,  when 
the  Mozart-cycle  was  held  in  the  Residenz 
12  [  177  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXZXXXZXZXXXXXJ 

Theatre.  Then  I  enjoyed  Cosi  fan  tutte, 
with  Fritzi  Scheffas  Despina.  The  Residenz 
Theatre  is  an  ideal  place  to  hear  Mozart. 
It  is  only  large  enough  to  seat  eight  hun- 
dred persons,  and  the  orchestra  sounds  most 
effective.  The  Hof  Theatre  is  too  large  for 
the  production  of  Mozart's  operas.  After 
one  act  of  the  Zauberflbte  I  began  to  find 
the  orchestra  thin  and  somewhat  monoto- 
nous. When  the  music  is  really  so  beauti- 
ful, it  seems  a  pity  not  to  give  it  under  the 
best  conditions. 

Fraulein  Hartmann  and  her  aunt  sat  just 
across  from  us  in  the  balcony.  I  hoped 
that  we  might  all  walk  home  together,  but 
when  we  met  at  the  door  afterwards  there 
was  Lieutenant  Blum,  important  and  self- 
satisfied,  waiting  to  escort  them. 

Good  night  now,  my  dear. 

Fasching-Dienstag 

(Shrove  Tuesday). 

Miinchen    gone    mad !     Miinchen    with 
dignity  thrown  to  the  winds  and  cavorting 
[178] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

"""'IITTTTTinilUllHTiniiiiMtTiiiiii mm,,,,,,  n,  ,,..TT] 

in  the  dress  of  a  clown  !    Miinchen  laughing, 
dancing,    fairly   shrieking   with   pure   glee! 
The  misty  atmosphere  through  which  one 
always    views   the   distant   majesty   of   the 
Maximileum  as  one  looks  down  Maximilian- 
strasse  is  curiously  filled  with  a  new  sort  of 
snowflake,  a  tiny,  square  atom  which  may 
be  red  or  green  or  the  most  vivid  of  yellows. 
The  sidewalks  are  packed  with  a  half-crazed 
throng,    some     in     vari-colored    costumes, 
others  in  street   dress,  but   all   pelting  one 
another    with    confetti,    while    the    street 
itself  is  crowded  with  slow-moving  lines  of 
carriages  whose  occupants  join  no  less  wildly 
in  the  fun.     And  all  this  because  it  is  the 
last  day  of  the  carnival. 

My  first  glimpse  of  the  frolic  to  come 
was  afforded  me  on  Saturday.  I  was  deep 
in  the  midst  of  a  canonic  imitation  when 
there  came  a  knock  on  the  door  and  in  burst 
Karl,  radiant,  his  cheeks  aglow  with  ex- 
citement. He  was  dressed  in  a  wonderful 
costume,  which  consisted  of  a  loose  white 
shirt  with  black  silk  pompons  down  the 
front,  white  trousers,  a  gigantic  white 
[179] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

itt»M»niniiimniTtMTimim»miniiiimimiimimmnimnn 

ruff  about  the   neck  and   a  high   pointed 
hat. 

"  Bin  ick  nicht  nett,  gnddiges  Fraulein  ?  " 
(Am  I  not  fine  ?)  he  cried,  kissing  my  hand 
with  mock  deference  and  prancing  about 
the  study.  "  Just  wait  till  you  see  me  to- 
morrow !  Then  I  am  to  have  a  grand 
mustache  and  all  kinds  of  red  and  green 
designs  painted  on  my  cheeks ! " 

He  grinned  with  delight  at  the  thought 
of  these  cannibalistic  decorations,  which, 
however,  struck  me  as  more  appropriate 
for  a  circus  than  a  Sunday  promenade. 

To-day  Miitterchen,  the  Baroness,  Herr 
Martens,  and  I  took  a  carriage  before  the 
house  at  two  o'clock.  One's  first  carnival 
is  not  a  thing  to  be  taken  calmly  and  I  was 
all  excitement,  staring  to  right  and  left,  and 
craning  my  neck  in  my  endeavor  not  to 
miss  anything.  On  every  corner  we  passed 
stood  old  women  and  men  with  little  push- 
carts full  of  bright-colored  bags  of  confetti 
or  baskets  of  Luft-Schlangen  (long  paper 
streamers  done  up  in  small  rolls,  to  be 
thrown  through  the  air  like  those  we  have 
[180] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTrT»TiiTTtT»t»»iiiiiTtiiiixiiiiiiiiiiinmi:»iiiiiii:iiixiiiii:nixiiigi 

at  the  Harvard  Class  Day  exercises  around 
the  statue).  For  ten  pfennigs  (two  and 
one-half  cents)  one  could  obtain  a  generous 
supply,  and  following  the  Baroness'  sugges- 
tion, we  stocked  the  carriage  well. 

We  found  the  streets  already  so  crowded 
that  we  were  forced  to  proceed  very  slowly 
towards  Max-Joseph-Platz.  Just  as  we 
reached  the  post-office  a  horn  blew  sharply, 
policemen  hurriedly  pushed  back  the  crowd, 
and  the  First  and  Second  Cavalry  regiment 
officers  came  galloping  by  us  and  on  down 
the  street  between  the  two  long  lines  of 
carriages.  Their  appearance  was  most  gro- 
tesque. Dressed  as  clowns,  in  suits  of 
black  or  white,  their  painted  faces  made 
them  all  look  alike.  With  snapping  whips 
they  urged  on  their  horses  at  full  speed. 
The  excited  animals  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
fun  as  much  as  their  riders,  and  shook  their 
gayly  ribboned  manes  proudly. 

Hardly  had  we  started  again,  for  our  car- 
riage had  come  to  a  halt  to  let  them  pass, 
when  I  heard  a  familiar  voice  cry,  "  Hola !  " 
and  as  I  turned  to  see  who  was  shouting,  a 
[181] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

nni»T»tiiniiniTiTMmTmiii»in;iiiiTiinminiiiiTmmiiin»TTTi 

handful  of  confetti  was  thrown  straight  in 
my  face.  For  a  moment  I  was  angry,  for 
the  sensation  of  eyes  and  mouth  suddenly 
full  of  paper  is  not  conducive  to  amiability. 
Then,  realizing  the  absurdity  of  losing  my 
temper  at  such  a  time,  I  dived  my  hand 
into  a  bag  to  retaliate  on  my  antagonist. 
Before  I  could  discover  him  another  shot 
landed  in  the  back  of  my  neck  and  over  my 
hat  a  Luft-Schlange  came  floating. 

"  Caught  you  that  time,  gnddigcs  Frtiu- 
lein"  said  a  voice,  and  I  met  the  laughing 
glance  of  Karl,  who  jumped  on  the  step 
of  our  carriage  and  rode  along  with  us. 
His  white  costume  was  sadly  soiled,  but 
he  had  fulfilled  all  his  promises  as  to  the 
horrible  wonder  of  a  painted  mustache 
and  streaked  cheeks.  A  North  American 
Indian  could  not  have  improved  on  him. 

"  I  've  ridden  up  and  down  five  times  al- 
ready," he  said,  as  he  jumped  off  to  pay  a 
similar  visit  to  some  friends  just  across. 

"  There 's  Lou  and  the  girls,"  I  cried, 
catching  sight  of  a  carriage  in  the  opposite 
line  coming  up  the  street  as  we  went  down. 
[182] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


Having  learned  my  lesson  I  was  not  slow 
to  put  it  in  practice,  for  standing  up  in  the 
carriage  I  pelted  them  mercilessly,  Herr 
Martens  supplying  me  with  a  fresh  bag 
every  time  I  needed  one,  and  the  Baroness 
joining  enthusiastically  in  the  attack. 

It  was  not  a  one-sided  battle,  for  the  girls 
were  quick  to  return  our  shots,  and  the  aim 
of  the  little  Italian  count  who  was  with 
them  was  excellent.  You  should  have  seen 
our  carriage  when  they  were  finally  out  of 
range.  The  floor,  up  to  our  shoe-tops,  was 
filled  with  confetti ;  our  jackets  were  cov- 
ered with  it,  and  from  the  shoulders  of  the 
driver,  from  our  hats,  from  the  sides  of  the 
carriage  hung  countless  brilliant  streamers. 

At  the  big  statue  we  turned  and  came 
back.  When  we  finally  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  post-office  we  found  a  most  excit- 
ing thing  taking  place.  A  company  of 
clowns  on  horseback,  whom  we  recognized 
as  the  cavalry  officers  who  had  earlier  passed 
us,  were  forming  in  line  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  Platz.  Suddenly  they  set  off  with 
brisk  canter,  swung  around  the  statue  of 
[  183  | 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

nimiiiiiitiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiTiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiirm 

Max  Joseph,  and  dashed  at  full  speed  up 
the  high  flight  of  stairs  leading  to  the  opera 
house  !  They  came  back  rushing  down  the 
driveway.  The  horses  were  almost  beside 
themselves  with  excitement,  for  their  officers 
leaning  far  forward,  brandished  their  whips, 
dug  in  their  spurs,  and  urged  on  the  beasts 
by  frantic  shouts  and  exclamations,  while 
the  crowd  of  onlookers  cheered  wildly.  It 
was  a  thrilling  sight,  and  I  watched  them 
breathlessly.  I  could  not  help  feeling  that 
at  any  moment  one  of  these  half-crazed 
creatures,  now  flecked  with  foam,  might  lose 
his  balance  and  fall  backwards  down  the 
steps  crushing  his  rider  beneath,  and  so  I 
gave  a  relieved  sigh  as  I  saw  the  men  at  last 
dismount,  give  their  quivering  steeds  to  an 
orderly,  and  adjourn  to  the  cafe'  opposite. 
Just  then  the  Baron  and  Herr  Doktor,  who 
were  walking,  came  up  to  our  carriage. 

"  We  '11  take  you  into  the  cafe  for  a  mo- 
ment," said  the  Baron.  "  It  is  apt  to  grow 
rather  rough  there  later,  but  you  must  get  a 
glimpse  of  another  side  of  the  carnival." 

Accordingly,  well  barricaded  by  the  gentle- 
[184] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

^^^*^iniiiiiiimiiuiiiiiiTmiiiiniiMTTiiiii......TrT1,,,,,tIrT.T^ 

men,  we  quietly  entered  the  cafe  and  took 
the  only  vacant  table  which  stood  in  a 
retired  corner.  Here  again  the  officers  had 
undisputed  possession  of  the  place.  They 
were  laughing,  dancing  and  singing  in  a  bois- 
terous though  not  at  all  in  an  offensive  fashion. 
Meanwhile  an  orchestra  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  played  some  lively  music. 

"  Your  selection  pleaseth  me  but  poorly," 
declaimed   a   tall   fellow   with   a   blue   ruff 
about  his  neck,  as  he  tapped  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  director.     "Why  not  soothe  our  ears 
with  a  ditty  akin  to  this  ? "  whistling  one  of 
the   popular   student   airs.     He   seized   the 
baton  and  mounted   the   platform,  rapping 
sharply  on  the  rack.     The  players,  entering 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,   followed   him 
perfectly.     This  was  not  so  simple  a  matter 
as  it  sounds,  for  he  conducted  with  a  ridicu- 
lous exaggeration  of  all  the  mannerism,  ges- 
tures  and   poses   of   Weingartner.     It  was 
very  cleverly  done  and  set  every  one   into 
roars  of  laughter,  especially  when  the  fellow 
insisted  on  a  pianissimo  passage.     Then  he 
would  tilt  back  his  head,  wave  his  left  hand 
[186] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTIT»TIIIIIIIIITTTIIXIXIXIIXXXXXXXIXXXXIXlIlXXXIIIXrXIXXIIXIXXlIXXIXXXXXXm; 

with  that  curious  droop  of  the  finger-tips  so 
characteristic  of  the  great  conductor,  and 
nonchalantly  beat  time  with  his  stick  at  an 
angle  directed  towards  heaven. 

No  sooner  had  he  finished  and  returned 
with  low  bows  of  mock  modesty  to  his  place, 
than  an  officer  in  the  corner  jumped  on  top 
of  a  table  and,  stein  in  hand,  began  singing. 
The  crowd,  who  had  gathered  around  him, 
joined  in  the  refrain,  clinking  their  mugs 
together,  for  of  course  every  one  was  drinking 
beer — fa  va  sans  dire.  If  an  officer  chanced 
to  be  without  any,  he  made  his  way  to  a 
table  where  some  onlookers  were  sitting,  and 
with  a  courteous  "  beg  pardon,"  and  a  grace- 
ful raising  of  the  pointed  cap,  helped  him- 
self to  the  largest  stein  from  under  the  very 
nose  of  its  owner,  and  walked  serenely  off. 
No  one  seemed  to  mind  this,  the  original 
possessor  of  the  beer  least  of  all,  for  he 
laughed  heartily,  and  ordered  the  waiter  to 
bring  him  a  fresh  supply.  The  established 
rule  of  the  carnival  is  to  take  everything  in 
the  greatest  good  humor  and  let  the  spirit 
of  fun  prevail. 

[186] 


An  ^American  Girl  in  Munich 

44  To  your  very  good  health  !  May  you 
live  long,  be  prosperous,  and  see  many  carni- 
vals !  "  said  another  fellow  as  he  helped  him- 
self to  a  stranger's  wine  and  raised  the  glass 
to  his  lips. 

"That's    Count  von    E ,"   said    the 

Baroness  in  a  whisper,  as  he  set  down  the 
glass,  bowing  gravely.  "  I  should  know  his 
peculiar  walk  anywhere." 

"  It  was  certainly  most  interesting,"  said 
I,  as  after  watching  the  frolic  for  half  an 
hour  we  walked  out  into  Perusia-strasse. 

"  You  don't  have  anything  half  as  jolly 
in  America,  do  you?"  said  Herr  Martens, 
with  a  tone  of  superiority  in  his  voice. 
Whenever  any  one  addresses  me  with  that 
inflection  my  spread-eagleism  is  aroused. 
I  immediately  began  to  dilate  on  America 
and  the  American.  This  time  I  chose  as 
my  theme  "  Fourth  of  July,"  which  of  all 
our  celebrations  seemed  nearest  akin  to  this, 
and  my  glowing  description  of  the  manifold 
features  of  Independence  Day  caused  the 
carnival  to  seem  like  a  children's  festival. 
Did  I  write  you  that  the  Americans  in  the 
[187] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

pTTTTIIITIIIIIIIT*TTTI»IIITTTTT""tTTITITIIITITIIIIIIIIITririIIITIIIltirra 

pension  opposite  were  to  give  a  St.  Valen- 
tine's iparty  ?  Owing  to  illness  it  was  post- 
poned to  the  evening  of  Fasching  Dienstag. 
Accordingly  we  finished  our  day  by  a  dance 
and  general  frolic  with  the  girls,  which  was 
one  of  the  j  oiliest  things  I  have  been  to  this 
year.  This  letter  is  so  full  of  frivolity  that 
to  tell  you  of  my  doings  in  a  musical  way 
seems  most  incongruous,  so  I  will  save  all 
such  items  for  my  next. 

As  ever,  dear  Cecy, 

M. 


[188] 


ngnmnnmimmggxmimmmimmimmmmmma] 


VII 

.i»»mHllHHTlTrillIIIITITlimiTIIT!TH»»tTtTTtI»tTI»TTTr 


iiiniTtiiiiiiiiinimTiiTiiimt  tTtiitiTHHnimTiiummimTTrTTTT 


TTTITIIIIIIITIIIXITIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirm 


March  3,  10.30  P.  Af. 

/HAVE  JUST  RETURNED 
from  the  Modcrner  Abend  at  the 
Kaim  Saal,  and  am  so  excited  that  to 
go  calmly  to  bed  and  to  sleep  is  an  impossi- 
bility. I  don't  know  when  I  have  enjoyed 
anything  as  much.  The  concert,  as  you 
may  have  judged  by  the  name,  was  made 
up  of  compositions  by  living  composers. 
Stavenhagen  arranged  it  and  all  the  num- 
bers but  one  were  played  for  the  first  time. 
Here  is  the  program : 

1.  Singspiel  Overture      ....     Edgar  Istel. 

First  time ! 

2.  Ein  Zmeigespr'cich,  Tone-poem.     Max  Schillings. 
(For  solo  violin,  solo  Velio,  and  small  orchestra.) 

[Richard  Rettich  —  Heinrich  Warnke.] 

First  time  ! 

3.  Scene     and      Monologue      of 

Lukas  from  the  Opera  Dcr 

Conegidor Hugo  Wolf. 

[Anton  Dressier.] 

First  time  ! 

[191] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

in»itinT;iiiTiTni!»»MMiini»»miniimimmmimm»mimi 

4.  Klavierkonzert  (op.  6)  in  B  flat 

minor Felix  vom  Rath. 

[Anna  Langenhan-Hirzel.] 

5.  III.  Act  of  Gugeline  ....     Ludwig  Thuille. 

[Gugeline,  Agnes  Stavenhagen.      The  Prince, 
Franz  Bergen.] 

First  time  ! 

The  names  in  brackets  are  those  of  the 
soloists.  For  some  reason  or  other  the  or- 
der was  altered.  Thuille's  piece  and  Hugo 
Wolfs  changed  places.  Edgar  Istel,  who 
conducted  his  own  overture,  is  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered,  fine-looking  young  fellow,  and 
a  pupil  of  Thuille.  I  am  in  doubt  as  to 
his  nationality  for  he  certainly  looks  too 
well  groomed  for  a  German.  The  Schillings 
piece  was  a  lovely,  sustained  thing.  That 
man  certainly  knows  how  to  write  for  the 
'cello !  We  heard  his  opera  Ingwelde 
last  week,  and  remarked  the  same  thing 
then.  The  third  number  was,  however,  the 
number  of  the  evening.  I  wish  I  could  de- 
scribe to  you  the  enchanting  beauty  of  this 
music  from  Gugeline  —  its  delicacy,  fresh- 
ness, and  tenderness.  And  yet  withal  there 
[192] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mmmiiii:iiiiiimniiiiimmimmiiiiii;iniiiiniTTrimMMr»TTTi 

is  no  semblance  of  insipidity  about  it,  for  in 
spite  of  the  dominance  of  fanciful,  graceful 
motifs   the  music  every  now  and   then  as- 
sumes a  more  passionate  tinge,  as  though  an 
undercurrent   of  deeper  feeling  flowed   be- 
neath its  charming  surface.     Agnes  Staven- 
hagen,  the  wife  of  the  director,  sang  with 
great  niceness.     Thuille  has  a  trick  of  end- 
ing a  phrase  by  a  jump  to  a  high  pianissimo 
note,  and  she  rendered  this  most  effectively. 
Prejudiced  as  I  naturally  was  in  favor  of 
my  Maestro,  I  was  not  alone  in  my  enthu- 
siasm, for  at  the  close  of  the  piece  the  audi- 
ence burst  into  a  storm  of  applause,  cheering, 
stamping,    and    crying    "  Bravo  !    Bravo  !  " 
"Thuille!    Thuille!"     The     whole     house 
rose  as  one  person.     Thuille,  who  had  been 
sitting   about   eight   rows    back,   at   length 
came  forward.     He  did  not  mount  the  stage, 
but  remained  below  the  conductors  stand, 
bowing  and  smiling   in  the  delightful,  un- 
affected fashion  peculiar  to  him.     Again  and 
again  he  was  recalled,  the  audience  remain- 
ing standing  and  applauding.     Clearly,  aside 
from    his    musical   ability,    he    is    a    great 
13  [  193  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

niiiiiiiiiimnminiiixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiixiiiiixiiiimiiiirTzxxxn 

favorite  in  Munich.  When  the  tempest 
had  at  last  subsided  and  we  had  settled 
back  into  our  places,  Frau  Langenhan-Hirzel 
appeared  to  play  the  concerto  of  vom  Rath. 
Her  entrance  was  the  signal  for  a  fresh  out- 
burst of  applause,  and  there  was  no  more 
enthusiastic  group  in  the  hall  than  ours  in 
the  east  corner,  for  Polly,  Edith,  and  Louise 
are  all  her  pupils  and  loyally  adore  her. 
"Frau  Langenhan,"  as  they  generally  call 
her,  looked  very  young  as  she  took  her  place 
at  the  piano.  She  is  slight,  and  her  short 
black  hair  curls  roguishly  about  her  head, 
while  a  pair  of  dark,  innocent  eyes  give  her 
an  almost  childlike  appearance.  But  how- 
ever youthful  she  may  seem,  she  plays  with 
a  mastery  and  force  unusual  in  a  woman. 
Lescheticsky  is  proud  of  her  I  hear,  and  one 
can  readily  see  why.  The  concerto  itself  is 
most  brilliant  and  was  originally  composed 
and  dedicated  to  her.  Long  and  prolonged 
applause  followed  its  close.  Frau  Langen- 
han-Hirzel bowed  repeatedly,  and  at  length 
vom  Rath  came  forward  and  joined  her. 
He  is  tall,  with  extremely  light  hair.  In 
[194]  " 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTIIIHHTIIIIIITTITIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIHIlIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIHIISIXIXXIin 

spite  of  his  dignified  bearing  he  was  blush- 
ing up  to  his  ears  with  embarrassment,  and 
looked  greatly  relieved  to  sit  down. 

As  for  the  last  number,  we  had  forgotten 
all  about  it,  for  we  started  impetuously  off 
to  the  green  room.  When  we  entered, 
there  was  the  little  pianist  calmly  smoking  a 
cigarette  and  carelessly  shaking  her  black 
curls  from  to  time  with  a  characteristic 
movement  of  the  head.  The  girls  rushed 
enthusiastically  up  to  her.  After  the  first 
eager  words  of  congratulation  they  presented 
me,  and  she  was  most  cordial  in  her  greet- 
ing as  she  turned  and  shook  hands,  hold- 
ing her  cigarette  in  her  fingers.  Quite  a 
number  of  the  German  women  smoke 
and  she  does  so  constantly,  in  fact  even 
when  giving  lessons,  which  goes  ahead  of 
Thuille. 

But  my  head  all  the  time  was  full  of 
Grugelinc  —  how  could  one  forget  it?  — 
and  I  looked  about  for  Thuille.  He  was 
talking  to  Stavenhagen  in  the  corner,  with 
his  back  towards  me.  A  moment  later  he 
turned,  and  as  I  went  forward  with  out- 
[195] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

stretched  hand  he  met  me  half  way.  The 
beauty  of  his  music  had  so  intensely  moved 
me,  that  I  grew  excited  when  I  endeavored 
to  congratulate  him,  and  my  German  flew 
away  as  if  on  wings.  I  could  only  murmur 
stupidly  something  about  "  wunderschon" 
(very  beautiful)  and  "  entziickend"  (charm- 
ing), the  sole  adjectives  I  could  at  the  mo- 
ment recall.  Perhaps  my  expression  told 
him  more  than  my  words,  for  he  was  good 
enough  to  look  much  pleased  as  he  shook 
hands  warmly. 

Then  we  girls  all  came  out  together. 
None  of  us  cared  to  hear  the  rest  of  the  last 
number.  I  for  one  wanted  to  be  quiet  and 
think  —  or  rather  to  hear  again  in  my  mind 
those  haunting,  exquisite  strains.  Is  there 
anything  in  the  world  more  marvellous  than 
music  or  more  indescribable  than  its  hidden 
soul  ?  And  now  I  must  to  bed,  and  hear  it 
all  over  again,  I  hope,  in  my  dreams. 

Munchen,  Marcti  6. 

As  soon   as   my  greetings   with   Thuille 
were  over  to-day  I  hastened  to  congratulate 
[196] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITITTTHTTTTTTTIiiiiiTTTrT-r; 

him  again  on  the  success  of  his  Ghigeline 
music  last  Monday.  This  time  my  German 
was  a  little  more  fluent,  and  I  even  made 
bold  to  ask  him  how  long  it  had  taken  him 
to  write  the  act.  He  said  that  he  started  it 
in  the  middle  of  June,  1899.  After  waiting 
two  weeks  for  text  from  Bierbaum,  and  after 
countless  other  interruptions,  he  finished  it 
by  the  end  of  August. 

Then  began  the  lesson.  With  a  sinking 
heart  I  placed  my  fugue  on  the  rack.  I 
don't  know  how  many  hours  I  had  worked 
on  it!  At  any  rate  the  stretto  had  almost 
reduced  me  to  tears.  A  stretto  is  a  net,  and 
if  one  is  not  constantly  on  the  watch,  he  is 
caught  in  its  meshes.  Thuille  looked  it 
over,  made  some  corrections,  and  to  my 
surprise  said,  "  Sie  sind  recht  fleissig  gewcsen, 
Fraulein.  Die  Fugue  ist  gut"  (You  have 
been  very  industrious.  The  fugue  is  good). 
My  spirits  rose  with  a  leap,  for  he  seldom 
praises. 

The  pupil  who  was  to  follow  me  was 
late,  so  I  had  time  as  I  drew  on  my 
gloves  to  express  the  wish  that  we  might 
[197] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

hear  his  new  opera  produced  at  the  Hof- 
Theatre. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  he 
laughing.  "I  am  fortunate  if  I  have  my 
Lobetanz  given.  I  expect  that  will  appear 
about  the  twenty-second  of  the  month." 

Turning,  he  opened  one  of  the  drawers  of 
his  desk.  "Here  are  the  complete  scores 
of  them  all,"  he  said,  as  he  touched  the 
backs  of  the  great  books  with  a  tender, 
almost  paternal  pride  ;  "and  here  is  that 
place  for  the  wood-wind  in  Gugeline  which 
you  remarked  on." 

He  pointed  out  the  passage  in  the  score, 
and  to  my  delight  took  his  seat  at  the  piano 
and  played  for  some  moments. 

"  The  most  laborious  thing  I  ever  did  in 
my  life  was  writing  out  the  orchestral  parts 
from  here  on,"  he  said,  playing  the  theme  of 
the  duet.  "  I  thought  I  should  never  get 
it  done." 

His  words  made  me  think  of  something 

Mr.  Chadwick   had  said  in  class  one   day, 

shortly  after  the  completion  of  his  lyric  drama 

"Judith."      He  declared  that  reducing  the 

[198] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTiltTIltllllTTTTITIIIirTTTTTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirilllTTn 

orchestral  parts  so  as  to  make  a  complete 
piano  accompaniment  was  one  of  the  most 
tedious  things  he  ever  experienced.  After 
all,  my  dear,  the  gods  are  just,  and  to  be 
great  does  not  mean  that  one  is  free  from 
drudgery. 

Chadwick,  by  the  bye,  always  had  evidences 
of  his  energy  on  every  hand  in  the  form  of 
proofs  or  manuscript  lying  carelessly  about 
in  his  studio ;  perhaps  a  song,  or  a  string 
quartette,  or  merely  the  key  to  his  harmony 
book  which  he  was  getting  out  last  spring. 
Thuille,  on  the  contrary,  has  nothing  to  in- 
dicate what  he  is  doing  —  except  cigarettes. 

After  my  lesson  I  stopped  in  at  Polly's. 
I  found  her  playing  away  at  a  fearful  rate 
on  Saint-Saens'  G  minor  concerto,  and  she 
looked  so  pale  and  tired  that  I  made  her 
call  everything  else  off  and  go  for  a  walk. 
We  found,  however,  that  by  hurrying  we 
could  spend  a  half-hour  in  the  old  Pinako- 
thek,  and  so  we  made  our  way  to  Barer- 
strasse.  You  must  come  over  if  only  to 
see  these  splendid  Holbeins  !  The  master's 
portrait  of  himself  is  alone  worth  a  trip,  and 
[199] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

then  Durer's  four  apostles !  The  St.  Paul 
is  my  favorite,  he  is  so  majestic,  but  Polly 
prefers  St.  Mark.  She  says  he  looks  happier 
than  the  others. 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  about  taking 
tea  at  the  Sterners'.  They  live  over  by  the 
river,  and  we  wandered  through  a  maze  of 
streets  before  reaching  the  right  house. 
Then  we  climbed  numberless  flights  of  stairs 
in  true  German  fashion,  and  found  ourselves 
in  the  most  charming  apartment  under  the 
very  roof  itself.  Mrs.  Sterner  received  us  in 
a  picturesque,  low-studded  room,  which  had 
at  one  end  a  large  bay-window,  where  the 
tea  table  was  spread.  She  is  very  slight  and 
girlish  in  appearance.  As  we  sat  sipping 
our  tea  I  continually  caught  tantalizing 
glimpses  of  a  big  studio  at  the  farther  side. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  artist  himself 
entered  and  invited  us,  when  we  had  quite 
finished,  to  see  his  "  work  shop." 

Such  a  fascinating  place  as  it  is,  not  at  all 
of  the  conventional  order,  with  bizarre  nick- 
nacks  and  curios,  oriental  hangings,  and  stale, 
tobacco-scented  air ;  but  a  big,  light-flooded, 
[200] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTTIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIITIirilllllllllllllllllllTITTTTTTIITTTTTTTT^I 

healthy  room  adorned  merely  with  sketches, 
pictures  and  easels,  for  the  Sterners  have 
only  pitched  their  tent  in  Munich  for  a 
brief  season  and  are  off  in  the  spring  for 
Italy. 

There  is  a  wealth  of  treasures  in  Mr. 
Sterner 's  portfolio,  and  his  field  of  work  is  a 
delightfully  broad  one.  Of  his  illustrations, 
those  for  a  new  edition  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe's 
works  interested  me  most.  Each  picture 
had  such  definiteness  about  it  that  one  could 
guess  at  once  the  lines  it  interpreted.  Two 
of  his  most  famous  paintings  which  we  asked 
to  see  were  in  America,  but  he  showed  us 
the  exquisitely  taken  photographs.  One 
represents  a  charming  child,  the  other  is 
that  which  I  have  seen  so  often  in  your 
own  music  room,  —  William  Mason  at  the 
keyboard. 

"  And  the  new  picture,  is  it  finished  yet  ? " 
asked  Edith,  who  had  been  there  before. 

"  It 's  the  old  story  !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  Ve  put  it 
aside  to  work  on  pot-boilers  !  " 

Fancy  calling  those  wonderful  illustrations 
of  his  by  such  a  brutal  name. 

L  ~01  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

imillllllTITITItlTITIflllllllllllUm?!  tlTItltTIHITTITTTtHHTmitlltm 

Thursday. 

At  last,  my  dear,  I  have  something  defi- 
nite to  tell  you  about  Fraulein  Hartmann. 
The  most  distressing  thing  occurred  at 
dinner  to-day.  Just  as  we  were  having 
salad  and  composedly  conversing  about 
Arabic  customs  —  a  favorite  subject  of  Herr 
Doktor  and  the  Poet  —  in  came  the  Italian 
ladies,  with  profuse  apologies  for  their  tardi- 
ness. They  had  been  "  doing  "  the  Bavarian 
National  Museum,  and  lingered  too  long 
over  the  ivory  collection.  One  of  them 
crossed  to  Fraulein  Hartmann's  place  and 
handed  her  a  letter. 

"  I  met  the  postman  on  the  stairs,"  she 
said,  "  and  told  him  I  would  take  any  mail 
up,  so  he  gave  me  this." 

Fraulein  thanked  her  for  her  kindness,  then, 
glancing  at  the  handwriting,  suddenly  flushed 
to  the  roots  of  her  hair.  A  second  later  her 
aunt,  who  had  been  looking  over  her  shoulder, 
snatched  the  letter  from  her  hand.  Frau 
Von  Waldfel's  face  was  crimson  with  anger 
and  her  black  eyes  snapped  maliciously. 
[202  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIITIIIIIIIIIITITITTIITIIUllZlIItTtTIITITIIT 

"  I  '11  look  after  this,  young  lady,"  she 
said,  thrusting  the  letter  into  her  pocket. 
"  A  pretty  pass  when  engaged  girls  receive 
love  letters  from  other  than  their  betrothed." 

Her  voice  echoed  harshly  in  the  complete 
stillness  of  the  room.  Fraulein's  face  was  a 
study  —  anger,  mortification,  and  resentment 
at  the  insult  thus  publicly  inflicted  on  her. 
She  started  as  if  to  retort,  then,  recovering 
her  self-possession,  she  folded  her  napkin 
with  dignity,  rose  and  left  the  room.  Her 
head  was  proudly  erect,  but  her  blue  eyes, 
usually  so  tranquil,  were  smouldering  darkly. 

Frau  von  Waldfel  looked  even  more 
enraged  than  before,  that  her  niece  should 
dare  to  depart  without  her  permission. 
Muttering  to  herself,  she  pushed  back  her 
plate  with  a  sharp  rattle  of  her  knife  and 
fork,  and  went  out  with  a  heavy  step. 

We  were  all  speechless  with  astonishment. 
The  opportune  arrival  of  coffee  served  to  re- 
lieve the  tension,  and  the  calm  voice  of  the 
Poet's  Wife  was  like  oil  on  tempestuous 
waters,  as  she  inquired  whether  coffee  were 
a  favorite  drink  of  the  American  people. 
[203  1 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTtTtTIII>TTTtIHIITTtIIH»IIIIIIIXIXIITTIIITIIIIIIIIIIlIIIlIIIIIIIXIIXXXlm 

When  the  meal  was  over  she  drew  me  into 
the  hall. 

"  When  you  are  through  with  your  lessons 
come  and  see  me  in  my  room,"  she  said. 

That  afternoon  she  told  me  the  following 
about  Fraulein  Hartmann.  It  seems  that 
Fraulein's  parents,  who  live  in  Mannheim, 
are  poor  people.  Her  aunt,  however,  is  ex- 
tremely rich.  When,  last  spring,  Fraulein 
came  out  of  the  convent,  Frau  von  Waldfel 
sent  for  her  to  pay  her  a  visit.  She  was  very 
ambitious  that  her  niece  should  make  a 
brilliant  match,  for  she  is,  as  you  must  have 
guessed,  an  intensely  proud  woman.  Indeed, 
so  anxious  was  she  that  she  offered  to  pay 
the  dowry  and  introduce  Fraulein  into  so- 
ciety. This  offer  was  accepted  with  delight 
by  the  Hartmanns,  and  Fraulein  made  her 
debut  in  Berlin,  where  her  aunt  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  spend  the  winter.  Among  other 
men  whom  she  met  was  Lieutenant  Blum, 
He  had,  without  doubt,  heard  the  rumors  of 
Frau  von  Waldfel's  wealth,  for  he  immedi- 
ately began  to  pay  court.  Matters  were 
speedily  arranged  between  the  two  families 
[204] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


HViiinTiTiiiiirtTiiinimm 


and  the  young  people  were  betrothed. 
Fraulein's  parents  were  greatly  pleased; 
Frau  von  Waldfel,  radiant.  Such  an  honor 
that  her  niece  should  wed  an  officer  !  Only 
Friiulein  Hartmann  did  not  seem  to  rejoice 
as  she  should  over  the  good  fortune.  She 
would  have  been  less  than  human  had  not 
all  these  beautiful  surroundings,  these  fasci- 
nating frocks  and  these  flattering  friends  of 
her  aunt  pleased  her.  But  there  was  an- 
other man  —  there  always  is  a  third  person 
when  you  stop  to  think  of  it  —  in  form  of  a 
student,  who  had  lived  next  door  to  the 
Fraulein  all  her  life.  He  loved  her,  and 
she  was  half  in  love  with  him.  In  fact, 
affairs  would  speedily  have  come  to  a  climax 
had  not  Frau  von  Waldfel  taken  it  into  her 
head  to  send  for  her  niece  just  as  their  love- 
affair  was  at  this  Critical  point. 

"As  time  has  passed,"  continued  the 
Poet's  Wife,  "the  less  she  has  cared  for 
the  lieutenant  and  the  more  she  realizes 
that  her  feeling  for  Heinrich  is  deeper 
than  the  passing  fancy  which  her  family 
would  have  her  believe.  Don't  blame  her, 
[205] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTITTtTTTTrt»tIITTTTTTITITTTTIIIITITTTTIIIIITITTTITITITIITIIIIITIITIIITrrn 

my  dear.  You  American  girls  are  brought 
up  very  differently  from  ours  here,  and  it  is 
hard  for  you  to  understand.  The  letter 
to-day  was,  I  feel  sure,  from  Heinrich. 
Much  as  she  has  longed  to  hear  from  him, 
she  is  too  honorable  to  permit  any  cor- 
respondence. A  short  time  ago,  however, 
Heinrich  wrote  a  letter  without  her  aunt's 
knowledge,  and  begged  her  to  see  him. 
After  much  misgiving  she  consented  and 
a  meeting  was  arranged " 

"  At  a  carnival  ball  ? "  I  interrupted. 

"Yes.  How  did  you  guess?  Probably 
the  rash  fellow  has  dared  to  write  and  pro- 
pose another  scheme.  *  Lovers  and  madmen 
have  such  seething  brains,'  "  she  quoted. 

"How  will  it  all  come  out,  I  wonder," 
said  I,  puzzled. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  wondering  the  same  thing. 
It  was  while  you  were  in  Meran,  you  know, 
that  Fraulein  told  me  this.  Her  aunt  was 
ill  with  the  gout,  and  one  morning  we  went 
for  a  walk  together.  She  was  feeling  very 
unhappy,  for  in  some  way  an  unpleasant 
rumor  concerning  Blum's  past  had  reached 
[206] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


:nii:iiiiiixiiiiiiiiimiimiiiniTT-n 


her,  and   I  suppose  the  dear  child  could  n't 
keep  her  heart  pent  up  any  longer." 

At  her  mention  of  Meran  my  mind  flew 
back  to  the  day  I  had  seen  the  man  I 
thought  was  Blum  on  the  Promenade. 

"  Was  the  lieutenant  in  town  then  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  No.  He  had  been  called  away  on  some 
law  business,"  she  answered. 

A  caller  came  in  just  at  this  point,  so  we 
had  no  more  opportunity  to  talk  together. 
I  feel  perfectly  sure  now  that  it  was  Blum 
who  was  having  such  a  gay  time  with  that 
crowd  of  people.  He  may  have  used  that 
law  stoiy  merely  as  an  excuse  to  take  a 
holiday.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  that 
sensitive,  lovable  girl  as  his  wife  ! 

Dear  me,  Cecilia,  this  is  a  strange,  strange 
world  !  One  would  imagine  that  with  ex- 
perience and  the  discretion  which  comes 
with  years,  things  would  straighten  them- 
selves out  a  bit;  but  the  older  one  grows 
the  queerer  life  is ! 
Yours  problematically  and  abstractedly, 

M. 
[  207] 


VIII 


annmmnnnnnnxnina 


^XHItllfTTTIlIllIIItlHIIIITIITIIIIITrtTIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIHIIllIIIIIIIIIIi 


■TIIIHIIIXTIHillUlrTTTTTTTITIIIIIIIIIIXIiriXIIXIlIIIimUnTT 


March  22. 
Cecilia  dear :  — 

jr-pyHERE    IS   THE    SMELL    OF 

a  spring  in  the  air  to-day.  As  I 
JL  passed  through  Odeons-Platz  on  my 
way  to  my  lesson  this  morning  the  sun  was 
flooding  the  whole  square  with  a  delicious 
warmth  we  have  not  felt  for  months.  A 
soft  breeze  brought  across  from  the  Hof- 
Garten  the  odor  of  freshly  upturned  earth. 
In  front  of  the  Feldernhalle  the  pigeons 
were  fluttering  and  whirling,  now  suddenly 
swooping  down  from  the  roof,  then  darting 
back  again  like  arpeggios  of  light.  Around 
the  flag  pole  a  crowd  of  laughing  children 
were  tossing  crumbs,  and  then  running  shyly 
back  into  the  arms  of  their  bareheaded 
nurses  as  the  birds  flocked  near.  The  scene, 
in  a  dim  way,  suggested  the  Piazza  of  San 
Marco,  and  I  gave  a  sigh  for  a  sight  of 
Venice,  —  its  blue,  unruffled  waters,  its 
marble  palaces,  and  the  white  dome  of  the 
Maria  della  Salute  against  its  peerless  sky. 
[«U] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTH»HtITTTttIHimTHIIt»ItHHIIIIIIIlIlIIIIHIIIIXIIIIIIIIIIXIIirTXXXZI3 

That  reminds  me  of  a  secret  I  have  to 
tell  you.  What  do  you  think?  In  April 
comes  the  spring  vacation  at  the  Conserva- 
tory, and  Mutterchen  is  contemplating  for 
us  —  mind  you,  I  say  contemplating  —  a 
trip  to  the  Italian  lakes.  Think  of  it  — 
Bellagio,  Como,  Lugano  and  all  the  rest ! 
I  don't  dare  give  myself  up  to  dreaming, 
however,  for  nothing  about  it  is  as  yet 
definitely   settled. 

Frau  von  Waldfel  and  her  niece  have 
gone  to  Berlin.  They  intend  to  stay  sev- 
eral weeks  in  order  to  complete  Fraulein's 
already  elaborate  trousseau.  My  own  opin- 
ion is,  however,  that  the  aunt  has  read 
Heinrich's  letter  and  wants  to  get  her  niece 
away  from  Munich  for  fear  she  may  meet 
him.  Ever  since  that  shocking  occurrence 
in  the  dining-room  neither  Frau  von  Wald- 
fel nor  the  Fraulein  have  come  to  the  table, 
but  have  had  all  their  meals  served  in  their 
rooms.  Of  course  we  do  not  see  the  lieu- 
tenant now,  for  which  I  am  duly  grateful, 
but  I  do  miss  the  Fraulein  and  our  pleasant 
chats  together. 

[  212  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

The  days  and  lessons  have  been  going  on 
just  as  usual  save  for  the  interruptions  af- 
forded by  the  celebration  of  the  Prince  Re- 
gent's birthday  which  came  on  the  twelfth. 
Early  in  the  morning  Louise  and  Edith 
called  for  me  to  go  to  the  great  military 
mass  at  St.  Michael's.  It  is  a  rare  thing  for 
women  to  have  cards,  for  this  service  is  held 
for  the  soldiers  alone.  According  to  direc- 
tions we  made  our  way  up  a  flight  of  nar- 
row stairs  which  led  from  the  sacristy,  and 
found  ourselves  in  the  corridor  of  a  balcony. 
From  this  corridor  lead  several  little  rooms 
which  are  called  by  the  theatrical  name  of 
boxes.  Most  of  them  are  reserved  for  the 
royal  family  and  persons  of  rank.  The  one 
which  was  allotted  to  us  was  almost  behind 
the  high  altar  and  facing  the  entire  congre- 
gation. We  could  not  be  seen  because  no 
light  from  the  church  itself  fell  on  the  little 
glass  windows,  tightly  closed,  which  covered 
the  front  of  our  box,  but  we  could  see  ex- 
cellently, and  I  shall  never  forget  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  scene.  I  could  not  help  but 
contrast  the  sight  before  me  with  that 
[  213  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTi»iinTtMiiiiiimiiiiiii/"""'»»»iimmiiiimmim»mninn 

which  I  had  beheld  within  these  same  walls 
last  Christmas  Eve.  Now  the  church  was 
filled  with  a  throng  of  men  in  dazzling  uni- 
forms—  here  a  company  of  privates  with 
white-plumed  helmets,  there  a  group  of  offi- 
cers in  the  Bavarian  blue  and  scarlet,  in  the 
farther  corner  a  coterie  of  generals  in  cream- 
colored  broadcloth,  countless  orders  gleam- 
ing across  their  breasts.  The  members  of 
the  royal  house  were  seated  directly  beneath 
us  in  the  choir.  They  were  in  full  uniform, 
and  sat  in  great  chairs  of  red  velvet  with 
kneeling  cushions  of  the  same  color  at 
their  feet.  On  the  altar  steps  stood  a  com- 
pany of  soldiers  with  black  plumes  to  their 
helmets,  while  separating  the  men  in  the 
nave  from  those  in  the  choir  stretched  a 
great   orchestra. 

What  a  wonderful  sea  of  color  it  was  ! 
The  sunshine  pouring  through  the  long  win- 
dows made  the  gleaming  swords,  the  shining 
helmets  and  the  gold-fringed  epaulets  a  thou- 
sand times  more  brilliant.  At  the  close  of 
the  service  the  band  suddenly  struck  up  the 
Hallelujah  chorus  from  the  "Messiah."  I 
[214] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

LLmmmilllimmmrTTTTTllUmilTTTIIIIiHrtTIIirrTTTTTIIMIIHTItrTl 

cannot  tell  you  how  impressive  it  was  to  hear 
these  familiar  strains  amid  such  strange  sur- 
roundings. I  thought  of  the  many  times  I 
had  heard  them  sung  at  home.  Then  as 
the  trumpets  rang  gloriously  out  on  that 
mighty  phrase,  "  King  of  Kings  ! "  and  the 
whole  orchestra  came  in  fortissimo  with  the 
wonderful  "  Hallelujah  !  "  which  echoed  and 
re-echoed  in  the  lofty  arches,  a  blur  came 
before  my  eyes.  Ah,  Cecy  dear,  the  world 
may  call  Handel  old  fashioned  and  laugh  at 
his  simplicity,  but  who  has  ever  written  a 
hymn  of  praise  so  powerful,  so  convincing 
as  this  ? 

On  Monday,  as  usual,  came  the  Wein- 
gartner  concert.  Beethoven's  seventh  was 
gloriously  given!  Weingartner  takes  the 
first  movement  slower  than  I  have  ever 
heard  it  at  home,  but  in  the  allegro  con  brio 
he  simply  sweeps  the  orchestra  along.  At 
the  close  of  the  concert  occurred  the  usual 
ovation,  a  number  of  enthusiastic  admirers 
staying  to  cheer  and  applaud  until  the  lights 
were  put  out.  AVeingartner's  conducting 
of  Beethoven  without  score  is  far  more  in- 
[215] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iiiiiTimiTt»nnTnmiTTiTiTmiimmiiimiiiiimmiiimiinimTti 

spiring  than  any  other  directing  I  have  ever 
seen,  just  as  the  words  of  an  extempora- 
neous speaker  are  more  forceful  than  one 
who  confines  himself  to  notes. 

I  was  sorry  that  I  could  not  go  to  the 
premiere  of  Thuille's  Lobetanz,  but  I 
attended  the  second  presentation  and  en- 
joyed it  immensely.  It  is  just  such  a  dainty 
thing  as  one  would  expect  from  his  pen  but, 
by  the  bye,  is  not  really  an  opera  at  all. 
The  program  announced  it  as  a  play  by 
Otto  Julius  Bierbaum  with  music  by  Lud- 
wig  Thuille.  At  first,  therefore,  I  was 
slightly  disappointed,  but  the  whole  thing 
is  so  charming  that  I  soon  forgot  my  annoy- 
ance at  the  spoken  dialogue.  The  Princess, 
whom  Lobetanz  loves,  was  beautifully  played 
by  Tordeck.  In  the  second  act  there  is  a 
lovely  bit,  when  Lobetanz  (Herr  Walther) 
plays  his  violin  under  the  tree  and  sings  of 
the  Princess'  eyes.  The  text  is  in  reality  a 
fairy  tale,  full  of  imagination  and  delicacy. 

I  was  discussing  the  performance  with  the 
little  Boer  after  my  lesson  at  the  school  to- 
day when  who  should  come  breathlessly  up 
[216] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTIIIillTHTtllltnilTTTTTYTITITIIIUTTrTTTrrTTTTTTnTrillltllllTIItTTTTTTTT'' 

the  stairs  but  Edith.  She  had  been  to  the 
house  for  me,  and  finding  me  gone  had 
come  down  to  the  Conservatory. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  shopping  with  me," 
she  said.  "  Do  come  and  help  me  buy  a  pair 
of  shoes." 

So  we  set  out  together  towards  Marien- 
Platz.  Oh,  my  dear  Cecilia,  if  you  ever  come 
to  Germany,  be  sure  and  bring  enough 
clothing  of  every  description  to  last  till  your 
return.  German  ladies  are  not  at  all  particu- 
lar about  the  cut  and  fit  of  their  gowns,  and  as 
for  their  footwear !  Such  a  time  as  we  had 
to-day  trying  to  buy  those  walking  boots ! 
In  the  first  place  we  could  find  nothing  nar- 
rower than  d  and  Edith  has  the  daintiest 
little  foot  imaginable.  Then  all  the  shoes  we 
saw  were  so  broad,  flat  and  shapeless,  that 
they  had  a  positively  inhuman  appearance. 
Edith  said  they  looked  as  though  they  had 
been  made  for  ducks.  It  was  hopeless  to  try 
and  make  the  Friiulein  understand  what  was 
wrong. 

"  Of  course  it's  —  it 's  very  er-serviceable," 
said  I,  holding  a  clumsy  thing  at  arm's 
[817] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HIIillllllllTTTITITTTTTTTTTTTITTTItirTITtTTTTITTTIITITTTTIIittllllTIIliyiTTTTl 

length  and  surveying  it  critically,  "but  isn't 
it  just  a  little  too  broad  ?  " 

The  Fraulein  cast  a  withering  glance  at  us. 
"  Broad  ? "  she  said,  "  why  it 's  not  broad  at 
all." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I. 

"  And  they   suit  perfectly  the   Countess 

von    R ,   Frau    Excellenz    von    S , 

Frau  General-Secretariat  M ." 

"  I  '11  go  barefoot  before  1 11  wear  those 
boots,"  exclaimed  Edith  in  English,  her 
cheeks  flushing,  "  and  I  don't  care  a  fig 
what  these  ladies  with  the  long  titles  wear ! " 
Then,  in  German,  "  Fraulein,  the  shoes  are 
quite  impossible.     Good  morning." 

With  the  bearing  of  an  injured  queen 
Edith  swept  out  of  the  store,  I  following 
meekly,  and  the  Fraulein  gazing  after  us 
both  in  open-mouthed  astonishment. 

It  was  not  till  we  were  half  way  up  the 
street  that  I  dared  to  break  the  silence 
in  which  my  companion  had  enveloped 
herself. 

"  It  occurs  to  me  in  a  vague  sort  of  way," 
I  began  timidly,  "that  the  Baroness  men- 
[  218  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[TITHITITTITIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirilllllUIIIIIITlririllllllllTTITTTTTm 

tioned  that  a  new  shoe  store  had  been 
opened  on  Residenz-strasse.  1  think  she 
said  they  kept  American  shoes." 

Edith's  face  softened.  "  Then  by  all 
means  let  us  go  there,"  she  said.  "  I  'm 
afraid  the  barefoot  idea  would  be  rather  un- 
comfortable in  bad  weather." 

Never  did  the  qualities  of  American  shoes 
appear  so  attractive  as  when  we  saw  them 
invitingly  displayed  in  the  window  of  the 
new  shop.  Edith  was  so  delighted  at  find- 
ing something  that  would  fit  that  she  paid 
without  a  murmur  the  fabulous  price  de- 
manded, and  invited  me  to  drink  chocolate 
with  her  afterwards  at  the  Hof-cafe. 

But  just  take  a  word  of  warning,  Cecilia, 
and  don't  get  caught  in  any  such  predica- 
ment yourself! 

Munich,  April  2. 

The  softest  zephyr  whispering  to  a  rose  ; 
the  faint  fragrance  of  a  lily  swaying  on  its 
stem ;  a  fairy  cobweb  lying  shimmering  in 
the  sun ;  this  is  Beethoven  as  played  by 
Ysaye.     Never  shall   I   forget    his    playing, 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tiiiiixiiiiii:in:iiinniiiiii:iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniixiimi:iiii::i:.mnxi 

and  never  do  I  want  to  hear  any  one  else 
play  the  G  major  sonata. 

Frau  Langenhan-Hirzel  and  Ysaye  are 
giving  a  series  of  concerts  consisting  of 
Beethoven's  sonatas  for  violin  and  piano. 
Polly  and  I  "went  Kategorie"  last  week. 
To  "  go  Kategorie  "  means  that  we  used  our 
students'  tickets,  or  Kategorie- Karten,  and 
obtained  admittance  at  a  reduced  price. 
We  did  not  receive  a  seat,  and  indeed 
none  were  to  be  had,  for  as  we  entered 
the  hall  of  the  Bayerische  Hof,  every  place 
was  taken  and  crowds  were  standing  in 
the  aisles.  Accordingly,  we  made  our  way 
to  the  balcony,  for  beneath  the  windows 
there  runs  a  low,  broad  step  which  answers 
very  well  in  place  of  a  seat.  When  we  ar- 
rived, however,  we  found  that  this,  too,  had 
been  taken  possession  of  by  a  crowd  of 
students  who  were  sitting  closely  together, 
their  knees  almost  touching  their  chins,  and 
most  of  them  holding  the  score  on  their 
laps.  We  were  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  for 
that  we  might  be  obliged  to  stand  had  never 
occurred  to  us. 

[220] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tllllTTIIIIIITIIITTTTTIIIIXIIIITITIITTIIIIIIIITirilTITTirrTITTTTTtTTITTTTTm 

"  There  must  be  a  step  or  a  window  ledge 
somewhere,"  said  Polly,  looking  vainly 
about.  Suddenly  I  spied  a  table  in  the 
corner,  and  I  threw  her  a  meaning  glance. 
Quick  as  a  flash  she  understood  and  was  too 
good  a  Bohemian  to  be  troubled  by  con- 
ventionalities. A  moment  later  we  were 
gravely  sitting  on  the  table  side  by  side,  our 
feet  not  touching  the  floor,  our  eyes  not  see- 
ing the  stage,  but  our  ears  straining  to  catch 
every  note  of  that  wonderful  music.  Polly 
had  brought  her  score.  One  of  the  players 
in  the  Kaim  Saal  orchestra  comes  to  her 
weekly  and  they  read  together,  so  she  is 
familiar  with  all  the  sonatas.  But  after  a 
time  I  shut  my  eyes  to  the  printed  symbols. 
I  wanted  only  to  hear,  for  from  the  moment 
Ysaye  draws  his  bow  across  the  strings  "  the 
weariness,  the  fever,  and  the  fret  "  fade  away, 
and  one  lives  in  another  world.  I  have 
never  heard  anything  more  exquisite  than 
his  pianissimo.  So  marvellously  legato  and 
delicate  it  is,  like  a  thread  of  gold,  that  I 
held  my  breath  for  fear  the  tone  might 
break.  It  reminded  me  of  all  that  is  beau- 
[S81  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

CIlIIIirilllllllltlTIITIIIITTIIIIITTTTTTIIIIITTITHIITTtTTtTIIIHIttTtTTTTTn 

tiful  and  dainty  and  lovely.  By  some  odd 
association  of  ideas,  Shelley's  lines  about  the 
lily  of  the  valley  came  to  me : 

"  The  light  of  its  tremulous  bells  is  seen 
Through  their  pavilions  of  tender  green." 

Frau  Langenhan-Hirzel  played  delightfully. 
But  what  impressed  me  most  forcibly  about 
her  and  about  Ysaye  was  their  perfect 
control. 

After  all  the  word  artist  means  nothing 
less  than  control.  No  matter  how  deeply 
an  artist's  feelings  may  be  stirred,  no  matter 
how  moved  he  may  be  by  the  intensity,  the 
passion  or  the  anguish  of  the  moment,  he 
must  always  be  the  master  of  his  emotions. 
He  must  make  others  cry,  weep,  exult,  but 
must  himself,  while  sensing  every  suggestion, 
remain  in  perfect  realization  of  the  situation. 
Picture  Elizabeth  sobbing  in  the  midst  of  the 
Tannhauser  prayer  !  Or  Paderewski  break- 
ing off  in  the  middle  of  a  bar  and  burying 
his  face  in  his  hands !  And  yet  an  artist 
must  feel  more  keenly  than  the  average  man. 
Verily,  the  gods  demand  miracles  ! 
[222] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

How  happy  I  am  to  write  you  that  the 
trip  southward  bids  fair  to  be  realized  within 
a  short  time.  We  have  heard  from  friends 
who  have  landed  at  Naples  and  who  hope 
to  meet  us  at  Milan.  You  can  imagine  how 
delighted  we  are  to  think  of  seeing  some  one 
from  home,  for  letters  at  best  are  unsatis- 
factory things.  I  have  so  many  questions 
to  ask  about  everything  and  everybody  that 
I  shall  be  worse  than  the  proverbial  small 
boy. 

Mutterchen  and  I  have  been  down  to 
Promenade  Platz  this  afternoon  buying 
trunk  straps.  Every  time  we  return  from 
a  trip  we  find  that  our  straps  have  mysteri- 
ously disappeared  and  no  one  seems  to  know 
anything  about  them.  I  fancy  that  those 
solemn-looking  guards  could  enlighten  us 
considerably  if  they  chose.  The  weather 
was  so  delightful  that  after  we  had  finished 
our  shopping,  which  had  led  us  down  Max- 
imilian-strasse,  we  decided  to  take  a  stroll 
along  the  Gasteig  Promenade  by  the  Isar. 
We  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  an  idly 
sauntering  throng,  for  the  greater  part  of 
[223] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iimnMiin»miiTii»t»miiiHTmiiimiimiinmiimiim»nTittT; 

Miinchen  had  turned  out  to  luxuriate  in  the 
sunshine.  Oh  !  my  dear,  how  it  would  shock 
your  fastidious  taste  to  see  the  new  Reform 
Kleid.  All  winter  the  women  showed  un- 
pleasant symptoms  of  adopting  this  form  of 
dress,  and  now  that  spring  has  come  the  fever 
has  burst  forth.  The  garments  are  all  en- 
tirely in  one  piece,  hanging  straight  down- 
ward, without  shape  or  curve,  totally 
ignoring  the  existence  of  a  waist  line. 
Most  of  them  suggest  nothing  so  strongly  as 
robes  de  nuit,  and  some  which  have  straps 
over  the  shoulders  remind  one  of  a  feminine 
species  of  overalls.  They  are  invariably  too 
short  in  front,  and  as  the  fashion  for  white 
shoes  prevails  (may  the  gods  spare  you  the 
sight  of  white  shoes  on  German  feet !)  the 
effect  is  grotesque  in  the  extreme.  I  believe 
the  one  virtue  of  these  remarkable  gowns  is 
that  they  are  comfortable,  but  so  are  bath- 
robes, sweaters,  and  negliges. 

Even  such  a  disturbing  element  as  the 

Reform   Kleid  was   in  time  forgotten,   for 

it  is  very  lovely  down  here  by  the  Isar,  that 

same  "  Isar,  rolling  rapidly,"  of  which  every- 

[224] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tll»IIIlllIlIIIIMI«llUlIirilIIIIIIIIIlIMlllllimtf1HHl.l.,,,TT^r^r, 

one  has  read.  In  place  of  green  banks  are 
high  walls  of  white  stone  over  which  trails 
picturesque  ivy  from  the  terraces  on  either 
side.  The  Promenade  itself  stretches  along 
the  edge  of  the  embankment,  under  great 
shady  trees.  So  delightful  was  it  that  we 
wandered  down  to  the  Peace  Monument 
and  lingered  there  till  six  o'clock.  The  sun- 
set was  not  especially  brilliant,  but  the 
clouds  which  remained  hanging  low  in  the 
fast-darkening  sky  were  wonderful  indeed. 
They  shaded  from  a  dusky  violet  to  deep, 
rich  purple,  and  their  music  was  that  of 
a  Chopin  prelude,  not  one  of  those  tempest- 
tossed  visions,  but  perhaps  the  tender,  half- 
melancholy  one  in  B  flat. 

There  is  to  be  a  Vortrags- Abend  to- 
morrow night  which  marks  the  end  of  the 
spring  term  at  the  Conservatory.  Fraulein 
Mikorey,  a  pupil  of  Stavenhagen's,  is  to  play 
a  Beethoven  concerto,  a  student  named 
Sieben  is  to  play  the  violin,  and  I  am  to 
sing.     Wish  me  luck,  Licbchcn! 


15  [  225  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

i»Tmiiiiiimm»iiimiiHin»m»iinnH»»THHii!nnnii!tmiv) 

Evening. 

Just  a  line  before  I  go  to  sleep  to  tell  you 
that  everything  went  off  beautifully  at  the 
concert  to-night.  In  one  way  it  was  an 
awful  experience  —  awful,  dearest  of  friends, 
in  its  most  literal  sense.  This  was  not  on 
account  of  the  hall,  I  assure  you,  although 
it  looked  marvellously  great  and  high  as  one 
stepped  out  of  the  dressing-room  ;  nor  was 
it  because  of  the  imposing  audience,  nor 
the  crowds  of  pupils,  who  stood  with  critical 
attention  around  the  sides  of  the  room. 
Each  of  these  factors  may  have  its  individual 
influence  in  striking  terror  to  the  heart  of  the 
timid  performer,  but  they  are  all  as  nothing, 
absolutely  nothing,  I  say,  in  comparison 
with  that  austere,  black-coated,  solemn- 
visaged  line  of  professors  who  occupy  the 
front  row.  You  cannot  imagine  anything 
more  terrifying  than  to  stand  on  the  plat- 
form and  look  down  on  this  human  barri- 
cade which  shuts  one  off,  as  it  were,  from  all 
that  is  friendly  and  encouraging.  Staven- 
hagen  sat  in  the  centre,  with  arms  majesti- 
[226] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[ii:iiiiiiiriii:xxxmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiTiiiTiiiil..T,T.ii,,,,,,,TTr, 

cally  folded.  On  either  side  were  the  two 
women  teachers  of  the  school,  and  then  to 
right  and  left  stretched  that  line  of  frigid 
stateliness.  There  was  a  certain  horrible 
fascination  about  it  all,  for  try  as  I  would  to 
look  over  into  the  audience  or  up  at  the 
balcony,  I  found  my  glance  always  nervously 
returning  to  some  dignified  head  posed  at  a 
critical  angle,  or  some  pair  of  hands  with  fin- 
ger tips  pressed  together  in  judicial  attitude. 
The  moment  after  I  made  my  very  quaint, 
very  German  courtesy  —  a  ceremony  insisted 
on  by  the  Frau  Professor  —  I  suddenly  be- 
came terribly  conscious  of  the  fact  that  I 
was  an  American,  that  all  these  people 
before  me  were  German,  and  that  I  was 
about  to  sing  to  them  in  Italian.  If  I  had 
dared,  I  should  have  smiled.  It  was  as  if 
Italian  were  a  language  of  commerce,  by 
means  of  which  I  was  to  make  a  communi- 
cation to  the  audience.  But,  dear  me  !  I 
forgot  all  about  that  and  everything  —  yes, 
even  the  depressing  effect  of  the  front  row 
—  when  once  I  got  to  singing.  And  when 
it  was  over  I  could  have  hugged  the  fellow 
[227] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

;iini»!iiTmti»»;in»tiimTHTiitmT>»nnttiiiintHiTiiiiin;TTT>- 

who  cried  "  B?~avo!  Amerika!  Amerika!" 
What  mattered  it  that  it  was  only  an  unpre- 
tentious pupils'  concert  ?  I  could  not  have 
felt  any  prouder  if  it  had  been  my  debut  in 
grand  opera  when  Stavenhagen  and  Thuille 
congratulated  me,  and  the  latter  said,  in  his 
kind  way,  "We  must  make  that  counter- 
point run  as  easily  from  your  pen  as  those 
tones  from  your  lips." 

When  one  studies  singing  merely  for  the 
love  of  it,  it  is  all  very  well,  but  it  would 
make  your  heart  sick  to  see  the  number  of 
American  girls  over  here  who  are  half-starv- 
ing themselves  in  order  to  study  for  the 
grand  opera  stage.  One  sadly  wonders  how 
many  of  them  will  ever  "  arrive,"  but  when 
an  argument  is  raised  or  a  doubt  expressed 
as  to  their  ultimate  success,  they  immediately 
cite  the  case  of  Geraldine  Farrar,  the  Ameri- 
can who  is  at  present  singing  leading  roles 
at  the  Berlin  opera  house.  The  brilliancy 
of  her  success  blinds  their  eyes  to  hundreds 
of  utter  failures,  to  countless  half-way  suc- 
cesses and  to  the  untold  drudgery  which  lies 

along  the  road. 

[228] 


TTTiTiiitiT»tiiiiniiTTtmmiiT«tiiimnimmiiiiiiiixiiiiimTTrT 


IX 


milium 


ttTiiiiiiiitiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiimrLrmiiriiiiiriiiiiiirrc 


r7TTTHiriHIHIIIIIHIIITIlTTHITITT»TT11t.T»TITTTT«,,,TlTT» y, 


flllllllllirilllllllinillllTTTIIIITtHrrtTTIITTTTniTtyTtTTTIIlIITItTTtTTTTf 


Gordoxe,  Lake  Garda,  April  10. 
Dear  Cecilia :  — 

/AM  WRITING  IN  THE  LOVE- 
liest  and  most  romantic  of  gardens. 
It  lies  on  the  very  edge  of  Lake 
Garda.  Indeed,  only  a  wall  separates  this 
wealth  of  green  from  the  blue  waves  which 
plash  rhythmically  against  their  stone  bar- 
rier. Above  me  are  the  apple  blossoms  ;  on 
either  side  lie  tangles  of  vine  and  roses.  In 
the  distance  are  the  neat  white  paths  lead- 
ing to  the  hotel  where  we  are  staying.  It 
is  not  quite  so  civilized  here  as  farther  up 
the  slope,  where  the  plants  grow  in  decorous 
rows  and  carefully  laid  out  designs,  but  I 
like  it  much  better,  and  besides,  I  get  the 
breeze  —  a  soft,  legato  breeze  —  from  the 
water,  and  a  sight  of  the  picturesque  island 
—  as  yet  nameless  to  me  — just  across. 

We  found  our  way  to  this  charming  spot 
by  means  of  our  old  friend,  the  Brenner 
Pass.  How  changed  it  all  was  from  three 
months  ago  !  Then  everything  was  covered 
with  snow,  and  the  trees  bowed  into  crystal 
[  *81  I 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTT>»HTTTITHITIITTTTTIIIITTTtIITIiITTI«IIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIirTIIim 

arches  under  the  heavy  weight  of  ice.  Now 
the  whole  earth  seems  made  new  with  the 
soft  green  of  spring.  As  we  rode  along 
every  now  and  then  we  caught  sight  of  a 
fruit  tree  in  full  bloom :  peach  blossoms  of 
misty  pink  making  their  bit  of  valley  all 
aglow,  apple  blossoms  lighting  up  the 
shadow  of  a  threatening,  black  mountain, 
whose  snow-tipped  summit  seemed  in  some 
strange  way  akin  to  the  patch  of  white  at 
its  base. 

We  reached  Bozen  at  seven  o'clock,  and 
to  our  chagrin  could  find  no  accommoda- 
tion at  the  hotels.  In  vain  we  pleaded 
with  the  polite  proprietors.  At  loss  what 
to  do  we  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  a  stu- 
pidly smiling  Dienstmann  who  had  seized 
our  luggage  at  the  station  and  who  now 
assured  us  he  knew  of  an  excellent  inn 
where  we  could  find  rooms.  Putting  our 
trust  in  the  gods  we  turned  into  the  court- 
yard of  a  quaint  little  inn  called  the  Gol- 
dene  Taube,  and  inquired  of  the  smiling 
Hausfrau  if  we  could  have  lodgings  for  the 
night.  With  repeated  courtesies  she  replied 
[232] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

that  there  was  but  one  room  left,  but  it  was 
a  wonderfully  beautiful  room  if  we  cared  to 
see  it.     We  assured  her  that  we  would  take 
it  on  the  spot,  and  gratefully  climbed  three 
narrow  flights  of  stairs  without  a  murmur. 
Though    extremely   primitive,  the   house 
was   neat  and   clean,  but  we   involuntarily 
exchanged  glances  when  the  landlady  threw 
open  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  last  flight 
and    bowed  for   us   to   pass  into  the  room 
she   had  so  flatteringly  described.     Such  a 
cubby-hole  of  a  place,  with  a  sloping  roof, 
no  carpet  and  one  diamond-paned  window, 
from  which,  by  stretching   out   my  arm,  I 
could   touch   the   window   of  the   opposite 
house !      Did    I    say   no   carpet  ?     Then    I 
most  humbly  apologize,  for  before  each  bed 
was  a  blue  fragment  which,  by  a  powerful 
stretch  of  the  imagination  might,  I  suppose, 
be  called  a  rug.     The  floor  creaked  unmer- 
cifully every  time  we  walked  across  it,  and 
we    were    terribly    afraid    we    should    lose 
something    between    the    cracks.     Mutter- 
chen  was    inclined   to  regard    the    situation 
tragically,  but    I   was   rather   enjoying   the 
[233] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

whole  experience,  secretly  congratulating 
myself  on  being  in  an  attic  chamber  which 
might  bear  some  resemblance  to  those  in 
which  the  great  composers  slept,  ate,  toiled 
and  created  their  immortal  works. 

We  had  a  walk  and  a  drive  the  following 
morning  and  found  Bozen  much  like  Meran ; 
both  have  the  same  dingy  Lauben,  the 
frescoed  houses,  the  narrow  streets  and  pic- 
turesque shrines.  Our  drive  to  Gries  was 
through  a  veritable  garden,  for  the  fruit 
trees  were  abloom  on  every  side.  In  the 
afternoon  we  took  the  train  to  Riva,  a  train 
which  ran  over  the  narrowest  track  I  ever 
saw,  high  up  on  the  mountains. 

Riva  is  a  charming  place  at  the  head  of 
the  lake,  and  has  a  most  wonderful  new 
road  cut  through  tunnels  of  rock  along  the 
precipices  of  the  west  bank.  I  bought  four 
oranges  just  as  we  were  going  on  board  the 
boat  for  the  ridiculous  sum  of  twenty  heller 
(five  cents).  You  should  have  seen  the  man 
who  was  selling  them.  He  looked  like- the 
genuine  villain  of  comic  opera.  He  wore  a 
black,  broad-brimmed  hat  pulled  low  over 
[254] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[tTm»TTiTit»nt»nmMinnmnimtT»m»inmi»t»»HHinmii) 

his  eyes,  a  full  cape,  which  fell  to  his  feet, 
with  a  collar  of  well-worn  fur,  and  gold  ear- 
rings. He  was  very  gray  and  wrinkled,  and 
oh !  how  he  tried  to  cheat  me !  I  had 
not  had  the  sad  and  bitter  experiences 
of  shopping  in  Rome  six  years  ago  for 
nothing,  however,  and  so  I  determined  to 
settle  on  a  price  and  remain  firm.  Accord- 
ingly I  offered  twenty  heller  for  four  oranges. 
My  Italian  is  not  fluent.  It  is  limited  to 
musical  terms  and  a  few  selections  from  grand 
opera.  I  tried  to  recall  something  fitting,  but 
the  only  lines  which  came  to  me  were  those  of 
an  aria  from  Semlr amide,  which  could  hardly 
be  said  to  fit  the  occasion.  How  grieved, 
how  shocked  he  looked  —  the  old  rascal  !  — 
as  he  assured  me  that  he  could  not  permit 
his  wonderful  fruit  to  be  so  cruelly  sacrificed, 
although  nothing  would  delight  him  more 
than  to  please  the  American  signorina. 
Accordingly  I  turned  to  go  in  dignified 
silence.  In  a  second  the  oranges  were  done 
up  in  paper  and  given  over,  with  the  as- 
tounding announcement  that  never  before 
in  his  life  had  he  allowed  his  fruit  to  be  sold 
[  2S5  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

riiiTniiTiTTtiiiiTniiiiiiiimiixiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinim 

at  so  absurd  a  sum,  but  —  with  a  telling 
glance  from  under  his  black  hat  —  the 
charms  of  the  signorina  were  irresistible. 
At  my  first  opportunity  I  told  of  the  bar- 
gain I  had  made. 

"  Twenty  heller  for  four  oranges ! "  ex- 
claimed the  gentleman  who  sat  next  us. 
"  Why,  my  dear  young  lady,  for  thirty  heller 
(eight  cents)  I  just  bought  a  whole  dozen  !  " 

The  sail  down  the  lake  is  a  beautiful  one. 
Such  picturesque  little  towns  nestling  down 
by  the  shore,  such  bewildering  orange  groves 
along  the  hillsides,  such  quaint  spired 
churches  perched  in  the  most  inaccessible 
places !  The  "  witchery  of  the  soft  blue 
sky  "  enchants  one.  The  lake,  too,  is  of  a 
wonderful  tint.  What  a  land  this  must  be 
for  artists  !  Such  color,  color  everywhere ! 
I  wonder  they  don't  all  come  over  here  and 
live  forever. 

The  card  which  I  sent  you  from  Munchen, 
told  you  we  were  going  straight  to  Milan, 
so  you  doubtless  are  wondering  how  we 
chanced  to  stop  off  here.  Just  as  we  were 
leaving  Garda  our  boat  ran  aground.  This 
[236  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iimnriTTiimiTmiiiiriiTii!m;i:T!illlllimi»:ilHliiiii»i^»»»ii 

caused  the  wildest  commotion  among  the 
townspeople  who  came  flocking  down  to 
the  shore  and  stood  in  lines  along  the  break- 
water —  the  women  and  girls  bareheaded, 
with  red  shawls  about  their  shoulders  and 
blue  aprons  over  their  short  skirts,  the 
men  and  boys  in  loose  shirts,  with  scarlet 
handkerchiefs  carelessly  knotted  about  their 
throats  and  any  sort  of  a  cap  on  the  back 
of  their  heads.  They  shouted  to  each  other, 
they  gesticulated  wildly,  they  speculated 
on  the  length  of  time  before  we  could  be 
launched.  Indeed,  I  do  not  believe  there 
had  been  as  much  excitement  in  the  little 
village  for  years.  So  long  were  we  delayed 
that  on  inquiry  we  found  that  we  should 
arrive  too  late  to  catch  the  train  for  Milan, 
and  on  the  suggestion  of  an  English  lady 
with  whom  we  had  become  acquainted  in 
that  delightfully  informal  way  known  to 
travellers,  we  decided  to  stay  at  Gordone  over 
night.  That  is  how  I  chanced  to  be  writing 
in  this  fascinating  garden  and  to  be  hearing 
how  Italian  birds  sing  their  morning  paean. 
I  did  not  have  time  before  leaving 
[237] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTTTTTTTTTITTTITIIITITIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIITIIIITjrTTTm^ 

Miinchen  to  tell  you  of  the  last  two  concerts 
we  heard  there.  The  first  was  the  presen- 
tation of  Bach's  St.  Matthew  under  the 
direction  of  Zumpe,  with  the  Hof-Theatre 
chorus,  orchestra  and  soloists.  It  strikes 
me  that  the  Germans  do  not  know  how  to 
sing  oratorio.  They  lack  that  broad,  canta- 
bile  style.  Indeed,  this  branch  of  music  is 
heard  least  of  all  here.  Outside  of  the 
Rhine  towns,  which,  I  hear,  have  occasional 
festivals,  little  interest  is  shown  in  oratorio. 
At  the  St.  Matthew  the  artists  sang  un- 
sympathetically,  but  the  choral  singing  was 
magnificent.  Is  there  anything  in  the 
world  grander,  more  truly  religious  than  a 
Bach  choral  ?  One  listens  and  the  com- 
plexities, the  sordidness,  the  trivialities  of 
life  all  vanish.  One  feels  only  his  own 
insignificance  and  humbly  raises  his  voice 
with  the  rest  in  adoration  of  that  Greatness 
which  is  eternal. 

The  other  concert  was  the  last  one  in  the 

Weingartner  series.     The  hall  was  packed 

with  people,  many  of  whom  were  standing. 

The  program  began  with  Cherubini's  over- 

[238] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


ture  to  Anacreon.  Then  came  a  delightful 
concerto  by  Haydn  for  strings,  two  obligato 
violins  and  an  obligato  'cello.  Last  of  all 
was  Beethoven's  ninth  symphony.  The 
stage  had  been  enlarged  to  accommodate 
the  big  chorus.  This  was  the  first  time  I 
had  ever  heard  this  stupendous  work.  The 
singers  sang  with  great  spirit  and  as  though 
they  loved  every  note.  What  a  magnificent 
main  theme  that  is  with  the  rushing  counter- 
point in  the  strings  !  I  should  think  the  clari- 
net players  would  be  in  their  element,  there 
are  so  many  lovely  bits  for  that  instrument. 
And  the  drum  in  the  scherzo  —  who  could 
ever  forget  it? 

At  the  close  of  the  concert  Weingartner 
was  presented  with  an  enormous  laurel 
wreath,  amid  the  prolonged  cheers  and  ap- 
plause of  the  audience.  After  coming  out 
repeatedly  to  bow  his  thanks,  he  finally  ex- 
pressed them  in  a  graceful  little  speech.  I 
was  too  far  away  to  catch  all  that  he  said, 
but  at  the  end  his  A  uf  Wiedcrschen  bis 
ndchstcs  Jahr  (Till  we  meet  again  next 
year)  brought  forth  a  tremendous  thunder 
[239] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iiii»mriiiiiTiiiimim!imiiTimmiiimimi!;iimiiitiininnrm 

of  applause.  And  so  exit  Weingartner.  I 
do  hope  I  shall  see  him  conduct  again  before 
I  leave  Germany. 

This  afternoon  we  take  the  boat  across  the 
lake  and  then  the  train  to  Milan,  —  so  addio 
carissima,  as  they  say  in  this  lovely  country. 

Milan,  Easter  Sunday, 
1.2Q  A.  M. 

Easter  Sunday  is  just  beginning,  and  I  am 
about  to  retire  after  an  evening  spent  at  La 
Scala  in  hearing  Verdi's  Un  Ballo  in  Mas- 
chera.  Am  I  living  in  another  world  ?  Can 
Germany  and  the  dear  old  Hof-Theatre  be 
but  a  day's  trip  away  ?  When  one  has  for 
months  been  going  to  the  opera  at  seven 
and  returning  at  the  discreet  hour  of  nine- 
thirty  it  seems  nothing  less  than  wild  dis- 
sipation to  find  the  final  curtain  falling  in  the 
wee  small  hours  o'  the  night.  Milan  and 
Miinchen  may  bear  a  certain  euphonic 
similarity,  but  they  are  really  as  unlike  as 
black  and  white. 

In  the  Munich  opera  house  we  are  gener- 
[240] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

HlnmillHmimiiiiiiiimiimiimmiiiiinrTtnimiinmmtTTTm 

ally  directed  to  our  seats  by  a  languorous 
gesture  of  the  hand  and  a  pertinent  glance 
towards  the  desired  row.  Here,  however, 
the  usher  seized  our  checks,  muttered  to 
himself,  shouted  excitedly  to  a  fellow-usher, 
tried  to  direct  us  and  several  other  people 
at  once,  urged  us  to  hurry,  and  finally  landed 
us  breathless  in  our  places.  There  were  yet 
five  minutes  before  the  overture. 

La  Scala  is  an  enormous  opera  house,  and 
its  stage  stretches  beneath  one  like  a  great 
plain.  To  be  sure,  after  a  winter  of  Wag- 
nerian harmonies,  Verdi's  music  sounded 
somewhat  colorless,  but  oh !  the  language ! 
I  cannot  tell  you  what  a  peaceful,  refreshing 
change  it  was  to  hear  a  soft  Cielo !  issue 
from  the  soprano's  lips,  instead  of  the  Ach, 
Gott !  to  which  we  were  accustomed ;  and 
to  remark  how  easily  the  tenor  floated  along 
on  broad  ahs  instead  of  struggling  over  a 
succession  of  gutturals.  Don't  imagine  that 
I  sneer  at  German.  It  is  a  grand,  strong 
language,  but  for  song  there  is  nothing  in 
the  world  like  this  melodious  tongue  of  the 
South. 

16  [  o41  j 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

niiTmmtmminriimiiixixxxixxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxixxxxxxrxxxxxxxiiiiTn 

We  were  surprised  and  pleased  to  meet 

in  the  lobby   Mr.    P ,  a   Harvard   man 

whom  I  had  met  at  college.  He  is  study- 
ing voice  in  Milan,  and  told  me  not  a  little 
about  student  life  here.  It  seems  that  it  is 
the  height  of  a  singer's  ambition  to  make 
his  debut  at  La  Scala  which  Toscanini,  the 
conductor,  rules  with  a  rod  of  iron.  The 
students  receive  no  advantages  in  the  way 
of  tickets,  as  our  Kategorie-Karten  afford 
us  in  Munich.  He  also  told  me  that  opera 
monopolizes  the  field  of  music. 

"  It  is  true  that  Toscanini  gives  a  series 
of  orchestral  concerts  after  the  season,  but 
they  are,  as  a  rule,  unsuccessful,"  he  said. 
"We  have  small  chance  to  study  purely 
orchestral  music." 

"  Are  many  Wagner  operas  produced 
here  ?  "  I  asked.^ 

"  Oh,  yes,  Wagner  is  growing  in  favor, 
but  the  Italians  love  best  their  own  school." 

The  tenor,  Zenatello,  who  sang  Ricardo, 
seemed  to  be  a  great  favorite.  The  audience 
applauded  and  cheered  him  repeatedly.    Mr. 

P says  he  has  been  on  the  stage  but  a 

[  242  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tlllllTTTTTTITITIITIIIXIIIIIIITIlIXIXIIiriXXmillllllllllllllllllllllllllllJ 

short  time.  There  was  one  singer  of  whom 
the  people  decidedly  disapproved,  to  judge 
by  the  hissing  which  greeted  him  every  time 
he  made  his  appearance.  I  really  pitied 
him,  although  he  did  sing  atrociously. 

The  curtain  fell  at  twelve  o'clock.  To 
our  surprise  a  ballet,  or  rather  a  pantomime 
followed.  It  was  a  most  elaborate  produc- 
tion lasting  an  hour,  but  had  nothing  to  do 
with  what  went  before,  and  to  tell  the  truth 
I  was  too  sleepy  to  enjoy  it  much.  And 
now  good  night.  We  are  off  for  the  lakes 
on  Monday. 


[  243  ] 


jTnTtnitiiiiiiTtttminiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiii:riii;i:iiirm 

X 

tTTIHHITTTtimillHIIIIIIIIITlIlIIIIIIIlIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIlrllllXlX 


rrmTinririiTTiiiiiiTTTT»nTTTtTtyT-rrrn.TirrirD 

millllirmmilllTrrTTTlllTTlHIlTITTTTTttlTITTTlir 

Munich,  May  11. 
Cecilia  dear:  — 

F  X7"E  HAVE  SEEN  THE  LAKES 
m/t/  and  are  back  in  the  pension  once 
*     v  more.      Although  1  intended  to 

send  you  a  line  from  there  we  have  been  so 
constantly  on  the  go  that  letter-writing  has 
been  an  impossibility.  Of  course  we  "did  " 
Milan  thoroughly.  On  Easter  morning  we 
heard  mass  at  the  glorious  cathedral.  The 
music,  rendered  by  two  boy  choirs  with  or- 
gan accompaniment,  was  very  fine.  After  it 
was  over  we  climbed  up  on  the  roof.  As  I 
stood  there  among  the  myriads  of  fairy-like 
spires,  carved  columns  and  slender  pinnacles, 
I  realized  for  the  first  time  the  meaning  of 
that  oft-quoted  phrase,  "  architecture  is 
frozen  music."  It  was  as  though  a  whole 
orchestra  were  playing  con  sordini. 

We  had  a  delightful  trip  to  Pallanza,  row- 
ing across  to  Tsola  Bella,  where  Napoleon 
slept  before  the  battle  of  Marengo,  and  on 
to  Menaggio  and  mountain-girt  Lugano ; 
but  of  all  the  places  I  saw  Bellagio  remains 
[247  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTIHIITTTITTTTTIITTTTHIITTTItTIIHtlTIITIIIITIIXIIIIIIIITITIIITItlTITrTTrn 

in  my  memory  as  the  most  charming.  I 
think  der  Hebe  Gott  must  have  said  to 
Himself,  "  Here  I  will  make  the  loveliest 
spot  in  the  world."  I  cannot  begin  to 
describe  it  to  you,  but  will  try  to  tell  you 
about  it  when  I  return. 

At  our  first  dinner  after  we  came  back  we 
were  surprised  to  find  Frau  von  Waldfel  in 
her  old  place.  We  had  expected  she  would 
remain  much  longer  in  Berlin.  Fraulein's 
chair  was,  however,  empty,  and  I  learned 
that  she  was  ill. 

"  She  is  overtired,"  explained  her  aunt ; 
"  but  if  she  does  not  improve  by  to-morrow 
I  shall  call  a  physician." 

During  the  entire  meal  she  spoke  much 
more  gently  than  is  her  wont,  and  did  not 
engage  in  a  single  discussion  about  her  food. 
I  really  think  she  is  anxious  concerning 
Fraulein's  health. 

The  time  seems  frightfully  short  as  I  look 
ahead  and  realize  that  in  two  months  it  will 
all  be  over.  I  wish,  indeed,  that  the  days 
were  longer.  I  am  working  very  hard  just 
now ;  there  is  so  much  to  accomplish  by  the 
[248] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

lIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITlIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIXIXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTn 

end  of  June  !  After  all,  life  is  a  grand  op- 
portunity to  develop  the  possibilities  in  a 
person,  and  although  the  greater  part  of  us 
who  want  to  do  something  worth  while  will 
never  attain  our  goal,  I  believe  we  are  all 
the  broader  and  better  for  the  struggle. 
Heigho !  The  little  brown  bird  on  the  tree 
outside  squints  up  his  eyes  and  says  in  very 
translatable  German  bird-talk,  "  Cease  phi- 
losophizing, American  stranger,  and  set  to 
work  on  the  thing  which  lies  nearest." 
Therefore,  good-by  for  the  present,  and  a 
fresh  attack  on  my  fugue ! 

Tuesday  evening. 

The  doctor  came  to  see  Fraulein  Hartmann 
last  week  and  has  been  here  daily  since.  This 
morning  he  pronounced  her  illness  pneu- 
monia. Every  one  in  the  house  from  Georg 
and  Gretchen  to  the  Poet  himself  feels  very 
anxious  about  her.  A  quiet,  black-gowned 
sister  of  charity  has  been  installed  as  nurse, 
and  the  farther  end  of  the  floor  below  trans- 
formed into  a  miniature  hospital.  Lieu- 
tenant Blum  daily  inquires  after  the  patient. 
[249] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

axxxxJXBXt iiimtiininiiJiT»i»nmm»ninuiii»»HiHm3 

If  he  does  not  come  himself  he  sends  his 
orderly. 

Yesterday  as  I  chanced  to  look  out  of  the 
window  I  noticed  a  young  man  seated  on  a 
bench  under  the  trees  looking  intently  up 
at  the  house.  His  glance  seemed  to  be 
directed  towards  Fraulein  Hartmann's  win- 
dow. A  half-hour  later  I  saw  him  walk 
slowly,  thoughtfully  away.  It  was  the  same 
man  who  was  in  the  arbor  at  the  carnival 
ball  —  and  must  be  Heinrich.  You  may  be 
sure  that  I  shall  keep  you  informed  about 
the  Fraulein,  for  she  is  very  much  in  my 
thoughts  at  present. 

The  one  break  in  my  regular  routine  of 
study  this  week  has  been  a  visit  to  the 
clubhouse,  or  Corpskaus,  as  they  say  here, 
of  the  Suevia.  Mutterchen  and  I  were  the 
guests  of  Herr  Martens,  who  belongs  to  this 
student  club.  To  my  mind  the  most  inter- 
esting thing  about  the  house  is  that  it  was 
originally  built  by  Ludwig  II.  for  Richard 
Wagner. 

We  entered  by  a  side  door  which  led  into 
a  hall.     On  the   right  was  a  counter  and 
[250  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mumini»iiimumiunummiii!iiiiiiii!iiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiT!TtTri 

above  it,  around  it  and  beneath  it,  hung 
hundreds  of  beer  steins  decorated  with  the 
arms  of  the  corps.  On  the  left  was  a  high 
rack  full  of  pipes,  beneath  which  were  rows 
of  short  jackets  trimmed  with  black,  blue 
and  white,  the  club  colors.  On  a  shelf  was 
a  pile  of  round  black  caps  with  bands  of 
blue  and  white. 

We  passed  through  the  low  door  into  the 
hall  or  Kneipe.  It  is  a  handsome  room 
decorated  with  flags,  shields  and  foils.  The 
furniture  is  dark  and  very  richly  carved.  At 
the  farther  end  the  ceiling  is  dome-shaped  and 
frescoed  with  the  arms  of  the  corps.  Here 
the  students  meet  evenings.  The  other 
rooms  of  the  house  are  far  less  elaborate, 
and  almost  all  contain  pictures  of  students 
duelling,  for  in  order  to  enter  this  exclusive 
club  one  must  first  of  all  be  a  good  fighter. 

The  bowling-alley  was  a  failure  as  a  bowl- 
ing-alley, but  as  a  picture  gallery  it  was  a 
great  success.  Around  the  room  ran  a 
double  row  of  students'  photographs,  about 
five  inches  in  height.  There  were  all  sorts 
of  students  and  they  never  failed  to  have 
[251] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

iTITTTTtTTIItTHXIXTHIIIUlTTimHIIXIIXXIXIXXXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXrTS 

the  scarred  side  of  their  faces  towards 
the  camera.  Each  wore  the  cap  of  their 
corps. 

"  Now  I  must  take  you  into  the  main 
house.  This  is  only  the  ell,  you  know," 
said  our  guide. 

"And  —  and  do  you  fight  there?"  asked 
Mutterchen  hesitatingly.  I  think  she  had 
visions  of  walking  in  on  a  crowd  of  masked 
creatures  fiercely  plunging  at  one  another 
with  swords. 

Herr  Martens  laughed  in  hearty  German 
fashion.  "  There  is  a  small  room  up  six 
flights  in  a  house  not  far  away,"  he  said. 
"  We  hire  it  especially  for  fighting.  You 
know  that  duelling  of  any  sort  is  strictly 
prohibited  by  the  police.  But  if  one  is  n't  a 
good  fighter  he  cannot  join  the  corps,  so  of 
course  we  have  to  have  a  place  where  we 
can  fight  secretly." 

I  glanced  at  his  deeply  scarred  cheek  and 
remarked  that  I  had  seen  several  students 
on  the  Parada  Sunday  wearing  tightly  fit- 
ting black  skull-caps. 

"  That  is  because  they  have  head  injuries," 
[252] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[TIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIItllllllUIIIITIIIIlTTIIIIIIttTTIIITTtTTTrTn 

he  explained.  Then  he  added  proudly,  "  I 
have  forty-two  scars." 

Matter ch en  gasped.  I  endeavored  to 
look  properly  impressed. 

"  But  what  do  you  find  to  fight  about  in 
these  peaceful  times  ? "  I  asked,  after  what 
I  considered  to  be  a  reverential  pause. 

"Oh,  anything  serves  as  a  pretext,''  he 
answered,  quite  frankly.  "The  students 
are  always  quarrelling  over  something  or 
other.  It 's  rather  good  fun  to  settle  it  by 
swords." 

"  And  at  home  they  call  football  brutal," 
murmured  Mutter  chen  in  my  ear. 

Making  our  way  through  reading-rooms, 
lounging-rooms  and  card-rooms,  we  came 
out  on  a  delightful  roof-garden. 

"  We  sit  out  dances  here  when  we  have  a 
ball,"  said  Hen*  Martens. 

Miltterchen  and  I  both  waxed  enthusiastic, 
not  only  over  the  garden,  but  over  the  whole 
house,  which  compares  very  favorably  with 
our  handsomest  college  clubhouses  in  Amer- 
ica. The  only  incongruous  feature  was  the 
air-tight  stove  in  every  room.  This  fact 
I  258  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

brings  forcibly  to  mind  that  in  spite  of 
everything  else  Germany  is  years  and  years 
behind  us  in  comforts  and  conveniences. 

I  have  been  so  busy  lately  that  I  have 
studied  evenings  too,  so  have  heard  but  one 
opera  since  my  return.  That  was  "  Louise," 
by  the  French  composer  Charpentier.  It  is 
distinctly  modern  and  extremely  interesting. 
Some  of  the  scenes  belong  to  the  real  opera 
comique.  There  is  one  laid  in  a  dressmaker's 
establishment.  The  curtain  rises  on  a  room 
full  of  girls  sewing  and  gossiping.  Sud- 
denly a  band  is  heard  and  the  tramp  of  feet. 
You  would  have  laughed  to  see  the  girls 
jump  up  on  the  tables  and  crane  their  necks 
to  get  a  view  of  the  soldiers  out  of  the  win- 
dow !  The  finale  is  very  effective  and  the 
whole  thing  has  the  merit  of  being  essentially 
realistic.  There  is  no  coloratura  soprano 
carolling  gayly  in  the  neighborhood  of 
high  C  about  her  broken  heart.  There  is  no 
basso  profundo  singing  a  drinking  song,  and 
at  the  end  descending  diatonically  till  he 
lands  on  low  D,  solemnly  assuring  us  there 
is  nothing  like 

[254] 


iiiiiiiiiii;iiit:;itiittitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiititit; 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

f  A  A  A      II 


« — * — *- 


Wi    -    i    -  ine.      di   -  vine. 


nor  any  of  the  other  traditional  absurdities 
which  we  accept  as  a  matter  of  course.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  seems  to  me  that  real- 
ism carried  to  the  nth  degree  is  quite  as  ridic- 
ulous. In  the  fourth  scene  of  the  first  act, 
Louise  (charmingly  sung  by  Morena)  with 
her  father  and  mother  sit  around  a  table  in 
the  centre  of  the  stage  for  fully  five  minutes 
without  uttering  a  syllable.  What  do  you 
think  they  are  doing  ?  Eating  soup  !  Mean- 
while the  orchestra  is  playing  beautiful 
music,  elaborating  a  theme  which  I  called 
motif  du  pot  age.  To  what  are  we  coming 
next? 

Our  table  is  not  so  deserted  as  you  might 
imagine,  in  spite  of  the  absence  of  Frau  von 
Waldfel  and  her  niece,  for  Fraulein  Werner, 
the  novelist,  has  come  to  stay  some  weeks 
at  the  pension.  She  is  an  odd-looking 
woman  with  shrewd  brown  eyes,  red  cheeks 
and  very  black  hair.  She  talks  a  great  deal 
[255] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rT», m .iniy iiiifTTTiiniiiiiTiiiiimiiixxmmimiiia 

and  is  decidedly  interesting.  You  know 
that  almost  all  her  novels  have  been  trans- 
lated into  English  and  are  much  read  in 
America.  She  is,  therefore,  greatly  inter- 
ested in  our  country  and  asks  many  ques- 
tions about  it,  although  she  declares  that 
her  fear  of  the  sea  will  prevent  her  from 
ever  setting  foot  on  our  shores. 

Between  you  and  me,  I  have  generally 
found  that  people  who  "do  things"  are 
horrible  bores  socially.  Nevertheless  they 
have  a  certain  charm,  and  that  reminds 
me  to  tell  you  that  I  am  to  meet  the 
opera  singer  Morena  on  Friday.     Madame 

A is  to  give  an   informal  tea  for  her 

and  has  asked  me  to  come.  You  can 
fancy  how  delighted  I  am,  for  I  can  never 
forget  her  well-nigh  perfect  rendering  of 
Leonora  in  Fidelio  and  her  Elizabeth  in 
Tannhauser. 

Sunday. 

Such  an  enjoyable  time   as  we  had   at 

Madame     A 's    tea    on    Friday.      We 

were  entertained  in  the  cosiest  of  roof-gar- 
[256] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

muuiiiiiiimiiiinmmiiiiunmmiiumii ..,,, rTTTT1 

dens,  high  up  above  the  noise  of  the  city. 
Morena  did  not  arrive  till  late,  but  Burger, 
one  of  the  leading  tenors  at  the  opera  house, 
was  there  with  his  pretty  young  bride.     He 
it  was  who  sang  Siegmund  in  Die  WaUcUre. 
At  half-past  five  came  the  sound  of  laughter 
on  the  stairs,  the  sharp  barking  of  a  dog,  and 
—  enter  Morena,  dressed  in  a  white  gown 
with   a  big  black  picture   hat.     "What  a 
glorious   creature!"   I   said   to   myself.      I 
have  told  you  that  she  is  very  tall  and  hand- 
some, with  beautiful  dark  eyes.     Her  man- 
ner is  utterly  unaffected  and  charming.     In 
five  minutes  she  was  laughing  and  chatter- 
ing with  us  all,  and   consuming   numerous 
chocolate  cakes  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
child.     Later  it   was  my  good  fortune  to 
have  a  talk  with  her  all  by  myself  in  the 
course  of  which  she  asked  many  questions 
about     America.       She     intends     crossing 
within  a  short  time,  for  it  seems  that  Con- 
ried  has  heard  her  sing  and  wants  to  intro- 
duce her  to  New  York  audiences. 

After   she   had   gone — she   stayed   only 
half  an  hour  — we  all  went  into  the  music- 
17  [  257  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tTiminTiTiiimiiiiixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiixiixxixxiixiiixiiixmixiixiiiiinn 

room  and  heard  a  young  American  singer 
who  has  taken  the  stage  name  of  de  Zara * 
sing  several  selections  from  the  roles 
of  Carmen  and  Santuzza.  It  was  a  great 
treat  to  hear  her,  for  she  has  a  voice  of 
unusual  promise.  I  wish  you  could  have 
been  with  us !  As  a  souvenir  you  shall 
see  Morena's  photograph  which  I  shall  bring 
back,  with  her  autograph  across  the  corner. 

These  are  such  busy  days !  We  are 
finishing  up  the  work  at  the  school  and  re- 
hearsing Berlioz's  "  Childhood  of  Christ "  for 
the  closing  concert.  This  afternoon  at  my 
piano  hour  the  little  Boer  girl  did  n  't  come, 
so  I  had  double  my  usual  time  for  reading 
at  sight.  Fraulein  Fischer  and  I  played  the 
Saint- Saens  variations  on  a  theme  of  Beet- 
hoven's for  two  pianos.  Do  you  know  it  ? 
I  think  it  great,  especially  the  big  fugue  at 
the  end. 

We  have  made  two  out-of-town  trips 
lately,  one  to  Starnberger-See  and  the  other 
to  the  Isar-Thal.  But  it  is  time  for  me 
to  go  to   my  lesson  now,  so  I  shall  have 

1  She  died  in  Munich  the  following  year. 

[258] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTti»iiiiTiTiri*iiTTiiiiT;iiiTiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiixiiiiiiixixxiiiiiiixirn 

to  save  telling  you  about  them  till  another 
time. 

Believe  me,  dearest  of  friends, 

As  ever  and  always,  — 

M. 

Fraulein  Hartmann  is  about  the  same, 
and  the  doctor  assures  us  that  there  is  no 
immediate  danger. 


[259] 

4 


cmnciraiiiiiiiiTiniiiiriniiiiiiixmniiiiiiiirixiiTiTiiiiiiimrTTTTn 


XI 


.»»»iu««K»mtminiiiiimnmimmiHmmmmmi»r 


pmu 


iTtTiTi!HiTiiiTiinitiTiiiTiT;iTT»irTrniiiimnir,TnitIIIll 


^TTTITtTTTTTTITIITTTIItllTTTITTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIirYTmTIIIIIIIXZma^L. 

June  28. 

CONFUSION  REIGNED  ON  THE 
floor  below  between  the  hours  of  four 
and  five  to-day  —  a  somewhat  muffled 
confusion,  to  be  sure,  for  the  proximity  of  the 
sick-room  forbade  any  violent  outburst,  but 
none  the  less  confusion  of  a  most  exciting 
character.  As  I  came  in  from  my  com- 
position lesson  I  found  maids  running  this 
way  and  that,  their  arms  full  of  clothing  and 
packages.  Georg  and  an  unknown  Dienst- 
mann  were  carrying  a  trunk  downstairs; 
Frau  von  Waldfel  was  kneeling  before  a 
hamper,  giving  orders  through  the  open 
door  of  her  room,  while  the  Poet's  Wife,  a 
hat-box  in  one  hand  and  a  parrot  cage  in  the 
other,  was  endeavoring  to  preserve  order  in 
the  midst  of  chaos.  She  came  out  to  speak 
to  me  as  I  halted  on  the  landing. 

"Frau  von  Waldfel  has  just  received  a 
telegram  demanding  her  immediate  presence 
in  Budapest;1  she  explained.  "  Some  serious 
business  complications  have  arisen,  and  she 
is  hurrying  to  catch  the  six  o'clock  train  to- 
I  268  | 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


!IIIIIIII!itIHHIIIIITHI»THIII] 


night.  Fraulein  knows  nothing  of  this  and 
we  do  not  dare  excite  her.  Frau  von  Wald- 
fel  is  greatly  distressed  at  the  thought  of 
leaving  her,  and  so  I  have  offered  to  take 
charge  of  the  sick-room  during  her  absence." 

"  That  is  so  like  you,"  I  said,  impulsively. 
"  I  '11  just  leave  my  music  books  upstairs  and 
come  directly  back,  for  perhaps  I  can  be  of 
some  help." 

When  I  returned  Frau  von  Waldfel  was 
standing  in  the  hall,  dressed  for  the  journey. 
She  looked  anxious  and  preoccupied  as  she 
shook  hands  in  a  perfunctory  manner  and 
counted  her  bag,  her  bundle,  her  umbrellas 
and  her  parrot  cage  three  times  before  allow- 
ing the  servants  to  carry  them  down  to  the 
droschky  waiting  below.  Then  occurred 
something  which  makes  me  regard  her  in  a 
far  more  kindly  light  than  I  have  been  wont 
to  do.  She  took  the  hands  of  the  Poet's 
Wife  in  both  her  own. 

"  What  should  I  have  done  without  you  !  " 

she  said.     I  never  dreamed  that  her  voice 

could  be  so  gentle.     "  Take  care  of  the  child 

and  let  me  know  daily  how  she  is.     Years 

[264] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rTTTTTIITtlllTTTIIIIlIlIIIIlllIXXIimillHIIIIIIXXXlIIIlIIIIimXXXXO 


ago  I  lost  a  little  one  of  my  own  —  the  only 
child  I  ever  had  —  and  I  could  n't  bear  to 
lose  Minna  too.  Here,  Georg,"  with  a  sud- 
den change  to  her  old  peremptory  manner, 
"  take  this  bag  down." 

She  turned  to  descend  the  stairs  but  there 
were  tears,  actually  tears  in  her  eyes,  which 
softened  their  beady  hardness  and  made 
them  almost  beautiful. 

"  Poor  woman ! "  said  the  Poet's  Wife 
softly,  as  we  heard  the  rattle  of  departing 
wheels. 

Then  she  hurried  off  to  prepare  the  Frau- 
lein's  gruel,  and  I  came  up  to  write  you. 
Really  I  do  not  know  whom  to  pity  most, 
Frau  von  Waldfel,  the  dear  Fraulein,  or 
Heinrich,  who  is  eating  his  heart  out  from 
day  to  day. 

Now  to  tell  you  of  some  of  the  things  I 
have  been  doing  lately.  First,  I  heard  Die 
Mcistcrsingcr  for  the  second  time.  If  one 
were  to  see  a  hundred  productions  of  this 
wonderful  work  I  am  sure  he  would  discover 
new  beauties  on  the  hundred  and  first  hear- 
ing !  Is  there  anything  more  lovely  than  the 
[  265  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

quintette  ?     Is  there  anything  more  marvel- 
lously worked  out  than  that  street  scene  ? 
Once  I  was  so  impressed  by  the  complexity 
of  the  score  that  I  actually  forgot  to  listen 
and  simply  sat  and  wondered  at  the  genius 
of  Wagner.     Feinhals  was  the  Hans  Sach, 
Fraulein  Koboth,  Eva,  and  Geis,  Beckmes- 
ser.     The  opera  began  at  six  and  was  not 
over  till   after  eleven,  with  two  pauses  of 
fifteen  minutes  each  between  the  acts.     You 
would  have  laughed  to  see  the  bored  expres- 
sions  of  two  Americans   who  sat  next  us. 
They  declared  to  each  other,  thinking  doubt- 
less that  there  was   no  one  to  understand 
them,  that  they  never  were  so  glad  in  their 
lives  when  the  final  curtain  fell.     Why  on 
earth  didn't   they  rise   and   go  out?     Not 
two  minutes  later  I  saw  them  again  in  the 
Garderobe,  and  overheard  the  gentleman  say 
to  another  American  whom  he  had  met,  "  De- 
lightful, was  it  not  ? "  while  his  wife  joined 
in  with,  "  Is  n't  Wagner  simply  delicious  ?  " 
O  departed  gods  of  Olympus,  is  there  any- 
thing more  disheartening  than  this  Fashion- 
able Insincerity  ? 

[me] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

fTTTTTTTITTTIITIITTTYTTTTTTTTTTTTTTIIIIllZTXTXTTmiUIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIH 

If  my  remarks  about  Fashionable  Insin- 
cerity and  Modern  Indifference  (for  they 
are  formidable  enough  to  be  capitalized) 
would  seem  to  show  a  disbelief  in  the  exist- 
ence of  that  simple  faith  which  the  poet 
assures  us  is  better  than  a  long  line  of  ances- 
tors, believe  me,  appearances  are  misleading, 
for  even  if  I  had  had  a  tendency  in  that  di- 
rection the  Corpus  Christi  celebrations  would 
have  banished  it  on  the  spot.  These  will 
always  remain  to  me  beautiful  and  sacred, 
and  as  an  indisputable  proof  that  Simplicity 
and  Sincerity  do  not  belong  solely  to  a  dis- 
tant past. 

On  Corpus  Christi  morning  we  were 
called  at  six  o'clock  in  order  not  to  miss 
the  great  procession  which  for  hundreds  of 
years  has  annually  on  this  day  wended  its 
way  through  the  streets  of  the  city.  As  we 
walked  towards  Max-Joseph-Platz  we  found 
everywhere  the  most  charming  decorations. 
Instead  of  conventional  banners  and  bunting, 
rows  of  fresh  green  birch  trees  about  six 
feet  high  were  fastened  against  the  houses 
as  if  growing  up  from  the  sidewalk.  From 
[  267  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mniiiimiiniiTTiiniiimiiiiiiixiiiixxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxzxxixxxxxxxxm 

the  window  ledges  hung  square  pieces  of 
cloth  of  red  and  blue.  On  turning  into 
Theatiner-strasse  what  was  our  surprise  to 
find  a  great  altar  erected  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  street.  It  was  high  and  triangular 
in  form,  outlined  by  these  same  delicate 
birch  trees.  Yellow  draperies  of  satin  con- 
cealed the  wooden  framework  itself.  In 
the  centre  was  a  great  crucifix,  and  the 
sight  of  this  sacred  symbol  in  the  midst  of 
a  busy  thoroughfare  was  startlingly  impres- 
sive. Through  the  middle  of  the  street, 
where  the  procession  was  to  pass,  grass  had 
been  strewn.  But  just  as  we  reached  the 
cafe  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents.  This 
was  the  end  of  it  for  that  day.  The  altar 
was  hastily  demolished,  carts  were  driven 
up  to  carry  away  the  draperies,  and  people 
with  disappointed  faces  came  crowding 
under  cover.  We  learned  that  the  pro- 
cession must  be  postponed  till  Sunday, 
although  the  Prince  Regent  and  the  golden 
carriages  —  such  an  important  feature  of 
the  occasion  —  would  not  appear. 

Somewhat  crestfallen,  we  returned  to  the 
[268] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rtiiTiiimiiinm»"m»"ii»TminmiiriIllmii»ii»»"»»i»»ii 

pension.  But  by  Sunday  our  interest  had 
again  awakened.  This  time  it  was  not  till 
eight  o'clock  that  we  stationed  ourselves  on 
a  balcony  overlooking  the  street,  from  which 
point  we  had  an  excellent  view  of  the 
procession  below.  First  came  a  number  of 
priests  in  splendid  robes,  bearing  a  holy 
banner.  Then  followed  a  double  row  of 
little  girls  on  each  side  of  the  street.  Some 
of  them  could  not  have  been  over  three 
years  old.  They  were  all  dressed  in  white, 
with  white  wreaths  on  their  heads,  and 
carried  bouquets  of  vari-colored  blossoms. 
Between  the  two  double  rows  were  four 
little  tots  bearing  the  image  of  the  Virgin. 
You  have  no  idea  what  a  lovely  picture 
they  made.  Then  came  a  brass  band  with 
a  choir  of  bareheaded  boys  and  students 
singing  hymns.  Behind  were  more  priests 
with  banners  ;  a  body  of  young  girls  in  white, 
carrying  unlighted  tapers  and  chanting 
prayers  in  unison  ;  sisters  of  charity,  school- 
girls, then  another  band  and  a  choir  of  older 
men,  singing.  .Just  below  the  house  was 
one  of  these  altars  which  I  have  described, 
[  269  | 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

gTI*»»I*TTTTTTTTItITITITIlIIT*IIIIIIXIIIIIIXIIIXIXXIIXIXXIIXXIIXIIIXXIIXXrm 

built  on  the  sidewalk  against  the  side  of  a 
building.  When  the  procession  stopped  for 
a  few  minutes  a  service  was  held  here, 
several  priests  stepping  out  from  their  places 
in  line  to  officiate.  Those  who  were  near 
turned  towards  the  altar  and  followed  the 
rites,  while  the  others  kept  on  with  their 
praying  and  singing  with  intense  devoutness 
and  earnestness. 

I  wish  I  might  describe  to  you  how 
solemn  and  impressive  it  was  —  the  voices 
of  the  chanting  priests ;  the  murmur  of 
prayers  rising  from  hundreds  of  lips ;  the 
distant  music  of  those  grand  old  chorals  ; 
the  incense,  floating  up  in  thin  clouds  from 
the  swinging  censers  below;  above  all  the 
absolute  simplicity  and  devotion  of  the 
people.  My  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Skepti- 
cism, doubt,  hypocrisy,  seemed  to  be 
merely  delusions  of  another  world.  Un- 
consciously the  lines  of  the  Persian  poet 
came  to  my  mind,  and  I  murmured  softly 
to  myself, 

"  He  that  tossed  you  down  into  the  Field, 
He  knows  about  it  all  —  He  knows  —  He  knows ! " 
[270] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

r»Tt»»iii>iiiiiiiiiiiiiiixixxjLxxiuMnmmxnjmxiiiiinii:ririiiii»:xi»i 

The  school  year  at  the  Conservatory 
closes  with  examinations  for  which  I  am 
now  preparing.  Then  as  my  last  task 
Thuille  desires  that  I  write  an  overture. 
(A  finale  would  seem  more  appropriate, 
would  n't  it  ?)  My  second  theme  came  in  a 
moment,  but  I  wrote  fully  a  dozen  first 
themes  before  I  found  one  which  would 
answer  my  purpose.  Now  I  am  doing  the 
most  interesting  part  of  all  —  the  scoring 
for  orchestra.  Of  course  this  is  only  for 
practice  and  I  never  expect  to  hear  it 
played,  but  as  Mr.  Chadwick  used  to  say, 
"  The  only  way  to  learn  how  to  compose  is  to 
compose,"  so  good-by,  while  I  go  on  with 
the  development  section. 


[271] 


:iiiixn:iiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiMiTiiiiiKimi»iiMiini»initin,,,T,TT> 

XII 

Hl»»millMMIIIHIlIimiimillliHTiiiimi»TTinMi»tT.iiimM^ 


gIXmHTITTTIIII>TltlIIIIlirmTIIirTIIIZIlIIXXmXXXXXrmTTTTTHIIXIXXXX 


gnnniiiim:iimumximiiuiixmuini»»n 


July  10. 

>^y  OOD  NEWS  AT  LAST  ABOUT 

m  Friiulein  Hartmann  !     The  crisis  is 

\^>*  past  and  she  is  much  better.  We 
all  feel  so  relieved,  especially  the  Poet's 
Wife,  who  is  beginning  to  show  the  strain  of 
the  past  weeks.  Frau  von  Waldfel  writes 
that  her  affairs  are  in  a  far  worse  condition 
than  she  anticipated.  In  fact  she  appears  to 
be  greatly  disturbed,  which  accounts  for  her 
having  written  but  twice  since  she  went  away. 
Lieutenant  Blum  called  yesterday.  He  has 
been  here  but  once  since  Frau  von  Waldfel's 
departure.  Doesn't  that  strike  you  as 
rather  extraordinary  ?  I  was  in  the  room 
when  he  came,  and  I  could  but  notice  how 
closely  he  questioned  the  Poet's  Wife  about 
Frau  von  Waldfel's  last  letter.  Indeed  he 
seemed  much  more  interested  in  her  business 
troubles  than  in  the  condition  of  his  fiancee. 
Is  it  possible  that  it  is  only  her  money  that 
he  is  after  ?  To  tell  the  truth  the  thought  has 
occurred  to  me  before,  but  I  never  deemed 
it  worthy  of  consideration  till  now, 
[  275  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

mTmnnmiiniiiiimxixixixxxxxixxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxixixxiiiriTi 

Every  day  the  Fraulein  receives  beautiful 
blue  flowers  such  as  one  finds  in  the  Isar- 
Thal  if  one  looks  carefully  enough.  The 
servants  think  they  are  the  gift  of  her 
betrothed,  so  do  not  gossip  over  his  non- 
appearance, but  the  Poet's  Wife  and  I  know 
better.  We  have  not  seen  Heinrich  daily 
pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  park  opposite  with- 
out learning  many  things.  Do  you  know, 
when  I  see  him  looking  up  with  yearning 
eyes  at  Fraulein's  window,  I  always  think 
of  the  poet  in  Bernard  Shaw's  "  Candida." 
The  expression  of  Heinrich's  face  says  as 
plainly  as  words,  "  We  hold  our  tongues. 
Does  that  stop  the  cry  of  the  heart  ?  —  for 
it  does  cry:  doesn't  it?  It  must,  if  you 
have  a  heart." 

Yesterday  and  to-day  examinations  were 
held  at  the  Conservatory.  At  eight  o'clock 
all  the  professors  appeared  in  the  dignity  of 
frock  coats  and  black  ties.  They  shut 
themselves  up  in  a  large  room  on  the  top 
floor,  and  one  by  one  the  pupils  were  called 
in  to  be  examined  before  them.  The  only 
[276] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[ntuuiiummn"1"""'"""""111""1"1"111"1"11"""11"1"1 

examination  which   was   really   trying   was 
that  in  the  history  of  music.     Had  it  been 
a  written  one  I  should  have  approached  it 
with  only  the  usual  nervousness,  but  an  oral 
test  is  quite  a   different  thing  when  one  is 
a  foreigner.     All  the  pupils  filed  in  together 
and  sat  in  a   single   row  on   the   platform. 
Before  us  was  the  formidable  mass  of  profes- 
sors with  folded  arms.    Just  in  front  of  them 
was   Stavenhagen   behind  a   table  and  two 
other  men  who  wrote  down  what  we  said. 
Before  the  director  was  a  box  full  of  paper 
slips  on  which  were  written  the  questions. 
When  a  pupil's  name  was  called,  he  went  to 
the  box,  drew  three  questions,  and  declaimed 
his  answers  to  the  joint  audience  of  pupils  and 
teachers.     As  I  have  told  you,  whenever  I 
am  nervous  my  German  becomes  affected  in 
a  peculiar  fashion.     I  find  myself  forgetting 
words  with  remarkable  rapidity  and  I  insist 
on  employing  the  English  order  of  expres- 
sion, which,  to  a  Miinchener,  is  nothing  less 
than  a  mild  form  of  madness.     However,  I 
managed  to   get   through    by  not  allowing 
the  amused  faces  of  the  onlookers  to  trouble 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


rmrnnmummmmiiminmmnnniimum 


me,  and  although  I  discovered  afterwards 
that  I  had  called  "  The  Damnation  of 
Faust"  an  oratorio  and  had  mixed  my 
genders  in  the  most  ludicrous  fashion,  I 
was  successfully  "passed." 

Now  only  the  concert  remains  before  the 
school  closes  for  the  summer.  Then  we  are 
to  take  our  final  trip  before  sailing  for  home. 
Our  itinerary  has  been  specially  planned  to 
include  places  of  musical  interest  and  we  are 
to  go  to  Mozart's  birthplace,  Salzburg ;  Leip- 
sic,  crowded  with  memories  of  Bach  and 
Wagner ;  Vienna  where  Beethoven,  Schu- 
bert, and  Brahms  lie  buried  ;  Berlin,  Dresden, 
and  Bremen.  We  may  run  down  to  Buda- 
pest, since  we  are  so  near,  and  thus  have  an 
opportunity  to  hear  a  bona  fide  Hungarian 
orchestra.  Isn't  that  fine,  and  does  n't  it 
make  you  long  to  be  with  us  ? 

Now  no  more  for  the  present,  my  dear, 
as  I  want  my  last  lesson  for  Thuille  to  be  a 
good  one,  and  my  orchestration  work  is 
unfinished. 


[278] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

July  17. 

The  blow  has  fallen  !  To-day  the 
Friiulein  received  a  letter  from  Frau  von 
Waldfel,  saying  that  she  has  lost  everything, 
even  her  personal  property,  through  an  un- 
wise investment.  The  poor  woman  is  in  great 
distress  of  mind  with  lawyers,  creditors,  and 
what  not,  but  these  lines  at  the  end  of  her 
letter  impressed  me  more  strongly  than  all 
the  rest:  "I  have  just  heard  from  Lieu- 
tenant Blum.  He  writes  that  he  releases 
you  from  your  betrothal,  'realizing  that 
in  this  present  trouble  Friiulein  Hartmann 
can  have  no  heart  for  festivities.'  The  sly 
fellow  has  had  private  information  of  my 
affairs  here,  and  doubtless  learned  that  if  I 
scrape  together  all  I  have  there  will  be  just 
enough  for  your  dowry  and  no  more.  Evi- 
dently he  had  hopes  of  living  on  my  income 
after  you  both  were  married.  It  seems  as 
though  my  present  ill-fortune  were  enough 
without  enduring  this  fresh  disappointment/' 
My  cheeks  burned  with  indignation  as  I 
read.  "  The  English  employ  a  word  which 
[279] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[Tin»nTiiniiiTnniTmmniTHHmiimiimimmmmiiiiTniiTTTi 

just  suits  this  officer  of  the  German  army, 
and  that  is  cad!"  said  I,  decisively. 

Fraulein  Hartmann  looked  at  the  blue 
flowers  in  her  lap  and  smiled  gently.  There 
was  a  light  in  her  eyes  —  a  light  indefinably 
beautiful  —  that  I  had  never  seen  there 
before. 

"  Poor  Auntie  deserves  all  the  sympathy 
you  can  give  her,"  she  said,  "  but  as  for  my- 
self—  well,  I  have  n't  been  as  happy  for 
months.  I  feel  as  though  a  great  weight  had 
been  lifted  from  my  heart.  After  all,  Meine 
Amerikanerin?  she  continued  naively,  "  don't 
you  think  that  people  are  happier  without  a 
lot  of  money  to  look  after  ?  Although  six 
months  ago  the  thought  of  all  the  delightful 
things  money  could  buy " 

"  Including  a  lieutenant  ? "  I  interrupted, 
involuntarily. 

"Yes,  including  a  lieutenant,"  she  smil- 
ingly went  on,  "  dazzled  me,  and  made  me 
a  bit  contemptuous  of  my  Mannheim  sur- 
roundings, now  I  really  believe  that  our 
little  home  there  is  the  loveliest,  dearest  spot 
in  the  whole  world." 

[280] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

rimTiiiiimiiim:iiix;iiimm!iii;mmiitiMiiTiTnmriTiiinTtiTTri 

"  With  Heinrich  next  door,"  I  added. 

"Perhaps  nearer  than  next  door,"  said 
the  Poet's  Wife,  caressing  the  girl's  blushing 
cheek,  "at  least  if  we  are  to  believe  what 
he  told  us  this  morning." 

"  Dear,"  said  the  Fraulein,  taking  my 
hand  in  hers  and  speaking  in  those  sweet, 
earnest  tones  which  made  her  so  winning, 
"did  you  think  me  very  wicked  and  de- 
ceitful that  night  at  the  carnival  ball  ?  It 
has  troubled  me  so  much — the  thought 
that  you  must  despise  me " 

"  I  won't  allow  you  to  say  that,"  I  inter- 
posed hastily. 

"  Yes,  it  always  is  a  despicable  thing  to 
do  — to  deceive,"  she  continued  ;  "  but  I  did 
so  want  to  talk  to  Heinrich,  and  explain  to 
him  how  things  were.  He  wrote  me  a  piti- 
ful letter,  begging  to  see  me  just  once,  and 
I  was  so  unhappy  that  I  finally  devised  that 
meeting.  Now  that  we  have  been  through 
all  this  I  feel  sure  that  my  parents  will  have 
no  objections  to  our  marrying.  They  have 
always  been  fond  of  Heinrich.  It  was  only 
the  thought  of  my  brilliant  match  that 
[281  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

made    them   ignore,   as   it   were,   his   very 
existence." 

"Just  as  soon  as  she  is  well  enough  to 
travel  I  am  going  to  take  her  home,"  said 
the  Poet's  Wife  to  me.  "  Heinrich  is  wait- 
ing here  in  Munich  to  go  down  with  us. 
He  is  doing  very  well,  by  the  bye,  in  his  law 
work." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Fraulein  eagerly,  "  and 
sometimes  next  year  when  —  when  we  are 
settled  —  you  will  come  down  and  visit  us  — 
promise  you  will,  meine  Amerikanerin  /" 

I  promised,  and  lingered  a  few  moments 
longer  to  learn  more  of  her  plans.  Then 
the  Poet's  Wife  insisted  that  she  had  had 
excitement  enough  for  one  day,  and  we  both 
left  her  leaning  back  in  her  chair  and,  with 
an  expression  of  unutterable  happiness,  gaz- 
ing dreamily  out  over  the  swaying  tree-tops 
of  the  Platz. 

At  three  o'clock  I  was  at  Ainmtiller-strasse 
for  my  last  lesson  with  Herr  Professor.  Did 
I  tell  you  that  some  weeks  ago  I  made  a 
translation  into  English  of  the  Rosenlied 
(Rose-song)  by  Anna  Hitter  ?  Thuille  has 
[282] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

tHIITIIITIIIIITITITTIIIITIIITIIIIIIITtTTTITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHTTTTITIirm 

written  a  three-part  song  for  women's  voices 
to  these  charming  words  and  asked  me  if  I 
would  put  them  into  English  for  him.  To- 
day he  gave  me  the  first  published  copy 
and  wrote  across  the  bottom  the  following 
inscription:  " Meiner  Helen  Schillerin;  zur 
freundliehen  Erinnerung.  L.  Thuille."  (To 
my  dear  pupil  in  friendly  remembrance. 
L.  Thuille.) 

I  had  brought  as  my  lesson  the  overture 
for  orchestra  on  which  I  have  been  spending 
considerable  time  lately,  and  a  little  song 
which  occurred  to  me  the  other  day  at  Tut- 
zing.  Nothing  pleases  Thuille  so  much  as 
a  completed  piece  of  work,  so  I  had  worked 
very  hard  to  finish  the  overture  in  time ;  in 
fact,  even  sitting  up  late  at  night,  which  is 
against  all  rules.  He  was  pleased  with  the 
result  and  declared  the  song  to  be  the  best 
thing  of  its  kind  that  I  have  done  this  year, 
which  made  me  very  happy.  I  did  not  mind 
that  my  eyes  were  tired. 

"  Take   a  good   rest,  Fraulein,"   he   said. 
"  You  must  surely  come  back  to  us  all  next 
year.     And  here  is  a  souvenir,  so  that  you 
[283  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 


'TTTTIIIIITTTTIHIIIITT1IIIIX1ITIIITIIIIIIIIIIXIXIXIXIIIIIIII3 


will  not  forget  your  old  teacher  when  you 
are  in  far-away  America." 

The  souvenir  proved  to  be  a  photograph 
of  himself,  taken  from  the  large  oil  painting 
which  hangs  in  the  salon.  Beneath  it  he  had 
written  his  name  with  some  bars  of  music 
from  Gugeline. 

I  thanked  him  repeatedly  as  we  shook 
hands.  Then  I  went  down  stairs  with  a 
vague  regret  in  my  heart  as  I  realized  that 
the  year's  work  was  over. 

On  Tuesday  evening  occurred  the  closing 
concert  at  the  Conservatory.  The  stage 
was  decorated  with  plants,  and  a  marble  bust 
of  the  Prince  Regent  occupied  the  place  of 
honor.  We  sang  the  "  Childhood  of  Christ," 
by  Berlioz,  which,  as  I  wrote  you,  we  have 
lately  been  rehearsing.  At  the  close  of  the 
concert  came  the  award  of  medals  for  special 
excellency  in  the  work  of  the  school.  Do 
you  not  feel  proud  when  I  tell  you  that  out 
of  the  ten  medals  presented  two  were  cap- 
tured by  American  girls  ?  Miss  Bartholo- 
may  from  Buffalo,  a  pupil  of  Stavenhagen, 
received  one.  Among  the  German  girls  I 
[284  J 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

[iiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiTiiiiiiiiiiiixxziiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiimiiiiiiniiiiicr: 

was  especially  glad  that  Fniulein  Marianne 
Briinner,  of  Vienna,  was  awarded  a  prize,  for 
I  like  her  playing  better  than  that  of  any 
one  else  in  the  school.  She  is  also  a  pupil 
of  Stavenhagen,  and  has  unusual  tempera- 
ment and  a  splendid  touch. 

Miitterchen  was  very  proud  when  it  was 
all  over,  and  she  found  me  in  the  dressing- 
room  exchanging  congratulations  with  a 
number  of  pupils.  It  was  hard  to  say  good- 
by  to  them  all,  for  the  association  which 
study  of  any  kind  brings  forms  a  certain 
bond  not  easy  to  break.  The  little  Boer 
girl,  who  is  to  stay  another  year,  is  terribly 
homesick  for  South  Africa,  and  wept  heart- 
rendingly  as  we  parted.  The  German  girls 
all  wished  me  a  "Gutc  Rcisc"  (pleasant  jour- 
ney), and  bade  me  not  forget  Miinchen 
when  I  was  again  on  American  soil ;  my 
Irish  friend,  who  sits  next  me  in  the  chorus, 
promised  to  write  and  keep  me  informed  of 
all  the  doings  in  the  school  ;  Friiulein  Fischer 
and  Fran  Bianci  insisted  that  I  come  another 
year  and  study  with  them,  and  Stavenhagen 
shook  hands  heartily  and  wished  me  success. 
I  «86  ] 


An  American  Girl  in  Munich 

;TTHCT»ITITTTTTTTHIITTimTIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIXIIIIIIIin 

And  now  all  that  remains  is  to  pack  our 
trunks  and  shake  the  dust  of  Munich  from 
our  feet.  I  hate  to  leave  the  quaint  old 
city  and  these  warm-hearted  German  people, 
for  1  have  grown  very  fond  of  both  during 
my  stay.  Then  there  is  the  Obelisk  and 
the  Fountain,  not  to  mention  the  other 
friends  we  must  leave  behind  us.  Edith 
and  Louise  have  already  gone  to  Paris,  and 
Polly  is  somewhere  in  the  Hartz  mountains 
taking  a  holiday  before  starting  for  Vienna, 
where  she  is  to  study  with  Lescheticsky. 
In  a  few  days  we  shall  be  scattered  like 
leaves  before  the  wind,  some  this  way  and 
some  that.  The  year  has  been  very  rich  in 
experience  and  pleasure,  but,  believe  me,  I 
shall  not  be  sorry  when  we  spread  our  sails 
for  the  harbor  of  New  York  and  say  to  these 
friendly  shores,  "  Auf  wiedersehen" 


[286] 


A  Story  of  Colorado  Life 

Justin  Wingate,  Ranchman 

By  JOHN    H.    WHITSON 

Author  of  "  Barbara,  a  Woman  of  the  West,"   "  The  Rainbow 

Chasers,"  etc. 

Illustrated.       l  zmo.      $1.50 

Another  strong  Western  story  with  spirited  and  graphic 
picturing  of  local  conditions,  the  agricultural  development  of 
a  Western  ranch  section,  and  the  struggle  between  the  ranch- 
men and  the  farmers.  The  story  has  three  remarkably  striking 
scenes  of  danger  —  a  high-grass  fire,  a  stampede  of  excited 
cattle,  and  a  terrific  storm  and  cloud-burst.  There  is  abun- 
dant love  interest  5  also  a  strong  political  element,  dealing 
with  Colorado  politics  and  the  fight  between  cattlemen  and 
irrigationists  to  control  the  legislature,  in  which  the  hero  becomes 
the  storm  centre.  The  attempt  of  a  beautiful,  crafty,  and  un- 
scrupulous woman,  who  is  a  wrecker  of  hearts  and  of  men,  to 
influence  his  vote  for  United  States  senator  plays  an  important  part. 


A  Tale  of  the  Arizona  Desert 

CURLY 

By   ROGER    POCOCK 

Author  of  "  Following  the  Frontier,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Stanley  L.  Wood.      \2mo.      $1.50 

A  remarkable  story  of  cattle  ranges  of  Arizona,  the  great 
deceit,  and  the  grand  canon  of  the  Colorado  river.  The  author 
has  written  a  romance  of  adventure,  of  conflict,  and  of  love,  — 
a  story  of  breathless  interest,  remarkable  situation,  and  great 
humor  and  pathos.  Chalkeye,  the  cowboy  who  tells  the  story, 
Captain  McCalmont,  the  robber-chief,  Lord  Babshannon,  the 
owner  of  a  Colorado  ranch,  hia  son  "  Jim,"  and  "  Curly,"  who 
gives  the  name  to  the  Story,  are  characters  of  great  strength, 
finely  portrayed  ami  well  contrasted. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,   tf   CO.,  Publishers 

BOSTON,     MASS. 


A  Romance  of  South  Africa 

ON  THE  FIRING  LINE 

By  ANNA  CHAPIN  RAY  and 
HAMILTON   BROCK  FULLER 

With  Frontispiece  by  H.   W,   Moore.      \zmo.     $1.50 

In  this  fine  romance  of  love  and  war  Miss  Ray  has  a  wider 
field  than  she  has  compassed  before  and  strikes  a  deeper  note  of 
feeling.  The  events  take  place  in  South  Africa  during  the 
Boer  War,  and  in  local  details  Mr.  Fuller  has  given  valuable 
aid.  As  in  the  author's  other  books,  the  characters  awaken 
interest  because  they  are  so  human. 


By  the  Author  of  "A  Rose  of  Normandy" 

A  KNOT  OF  BLUE 

By  WILLIAM  R.  A.  WILSON 

Illustrated  by  Ch.  Griinwald.         \zmo.        $1.50 

In  a  new  tale  of  absorbing  interest  the  author  of  the  success- 
ful "Rose  of  Normandy1 '  has  faithfully  portrayed  feminine 
tenderness  and  sweetness  of  character,  and  at  the  same  time  has 
shown  that  a  work  of  fiction  can  have  for  its  motif  the  gratifica- 
tion of  personal  revenge  without  offending  the  highest  moral 
taste  of  the  modern  civilized  world.  "  A  Knot  of  Blue'* 
abounds  in  intrigue,  adventure,  the  joy  of  living  and  achieving, 
and  it  throbs  with  romantic  tenderness.  The  scene  is  laid  in 
Old  Quebec. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,  &  CO.,  Publishers 

BOSTON,    MASS. 


A  Spell-binding  Creation 

Mysterious  Mr.  Sabin 

By  E.  PHILLIPS    OPPENHEIM 

Author  of  "  Anna  the  Adventuress,"  etc. 
Illustrated.      397  pages.      \imo.      $1.50 

Deals  with  an  intrigue  of  international  moment  —  the  fomenting 
of  a  war  between  Great  Britain  and  Germany  and  the  restoration 
of  the  Bourbon  monarchy  in  France  as  a  consequence.  Intensely 
readable  for  the  dramatic  force  with  which  the  story  is  told,  the 
absolute  originality  of  the  underlying  creative  thought,  and  the 
strength  of  all  the  men  and  women  who  fill  the  pages. — Pittsburg 
Times. 

Not  for  long  has  so  good  a  story  of  the  kind  been  published, 
and  the  book  is  the  more  commendable  because  the  literary 
quality  of  its  construction  has  not  been  slighted.  —  Chicago 
Record-Herald. 


By  the  Author  of  * '  The  Shadow  of  the  Czar ' ' 

THE  WEIRD  PICTURE 

By  JOHN   R.  CARLING 

Author  of  "The  Viking's  Skull,"  "The  Shadow  of  the  Czar,"  etc. 
With  Pictures  by  Cyrus  Cuneo.      \2rn0.      $1.50 

When  a  man  is  summoned  home  to  attend  the  marriage  to 
another  man  of  the  woman  he  loves,  and  when  the  bridegroom 
is  his  own  brother,  the  situation  is  certainly  very  striking. 
The  wedding  does  not  take  place,  for  the  bridegroom  is 
murdered.  The  scene  in  which  the  victim  appears  to  his 
brother,  on  the  hitter's  arrival  ;tt  Dover,  is  singularly  impressive. 
All  this  is  disclosed  in  the  opening  chapter,  and  paves  the  way 
*orv  which  becomes  more  and  more  intense  and  interesting 
.1    it    remarkable  plot  is  developed. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,  fc?  CO.,  Publishers 
BOSTON,    MASS. 


A  Gallant  Romance  of  Love  and  Daring 

MY  LADY  CLANCARTY 

By  MARY   IMLAY    TAYLOR 

Author  of"  On  the  Red  Staircase,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Alice  Barber  Stephens.       nmo.      $1.50 

In  this  gallant  romance  of  love  and  daring,  in  which  the 
action  is  swift,  the  characters  are  individual  and  interesting,  and 
the  atmosphere  and  setting  are  well  adapted  to  the  theme. 
Lady  Elizabeth  Spencer,  daughter  of  Lord  Sunderland,  and 
through  his  sordid  and  ambitious  motives  married  at  the  age  of 
eleven  to  Lord  Clancarty,  makes  the  most  charming  of  heroines, 
and  her  nobility  of  character  and  faithful  love  are  finely  and 
tenderly  portrayed. 


A  St ory  •  of  Adventure ^  Intrigue^  and  Love 

A  PRINCE  OF  LOVERS 

By  SIR   WILLIAM    MAGNAY 

Author  of  "The  Red  Chancellor,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Cyrus  Cuneo.      \2mo.     $1.50 

In  this  new  novel  by  Sir  William  Magnay,  the  heroine, 
"  Princess  Ruperta,"  a  princess  of  the  blood  royal,  sick  of  the 
monotony  and  unreality  of  Court,  goes  out  one  night,  incognito, 
with  her  maid.  Danger  unexpectedly  threatens  her,  and  when 
she  is  gallantly  rescued  from  this  danger  by  a  young  and 
handsome  stranger,  it  is  not  unnatural  that  (betrothed  com- 
pulsorily  as  she  is  for  State  reasons  to  a  royal  person  whom  she 
has  never  seen)  love  is  born  in  the  heart  of  the  Princess  as  well 
as  in  that  of  her  unknown  rescuer.  Then  follows  a  series  of 
adventures  brilliantly  imagined  and  enthrallingly  told. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,  &  CO.,  Publishers 

BOSTON,     MASS. 


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